This is Payback
by Eagle32nd
Summary: A follow-up to "Moving Heaven and Earth". When Chris and Rita accept an undercover assignment from an old friend, they again realize that crime isn't the only war they fight. The two must also struggle with the feelings they have for each other. In the Silk Stalkings canon, this story fits in the second half of Season 3, after "The Scarlet Shadow".
1. Introduction

It had to be one of the most beautiful places in the world - maybe the most beautiful place. For Geoff and Shawna Jensen, the mountains of northwest Wyoming and the Yellowstone area never got old. The views, the trees, and the pristine air - somewhat thinner at almost seven thousand feet above sea level, but crisp and fresh - were soothing to the soul. They would never leave.

Their jobs were demanding and sometimes very stressful, but when one worked in what was essentially a gigantic outdoor playground, relief and relaxation were within easy reach. A run on the ski slopes, a hike to a mountain peak, a bicycle ride down a gravel track, or just a leisurely drive - the medication for work ailments was never far away and always easy to take.

Moreover, if one wasn't blessed with tremendous wealth, as they were, this place was still perfect. Sitting on the deck during the day would often present skies as blue as azure. The same activity at night offered a completely new vista - far from the light pollution of the big cities - comprised of thousands and thousands of stars in a staggering display. Geoff and his wife agreed - God was in a very good mood when He made the Tetons.

As they drove their Mercedes sedan along Teton Pass Highway, it was another wondrous day, filled with anticipation. However, it wasn't the bright sunshine, which they saw in abundance with the thin wisps of high clouds acting as accents. Nor was it the pure, white, blinding snow. It reflected the sunlight and was still several feet deep along the side of the road at nearly eighty-five hundred feet. It wasn't the clean air, which they relished with every breath. It wasn't even the incredible scenery that had them excited.

Today was their big break, the culmination of years of frustration, pain, hard work, and expense. Geoff and Shawna were about to become parents. Both in their late twenties and unable to have children on their own, they were driving to the town of Idaho Falls, just across the border. There they would complete the process of adopting their precious child, a three-week-old infant offered up by a destitute young woman in Vietnam. In prior visits, they had seen him lying in a little bassinet and they had held him, cuddled him, and rocked him to sleep. Shawna had fed him, watching his little mouth suck on the bottle, his eyes looking at her. Today he would become family, and he was beautiful. Seven pounds, nineteen inches, smooth skin, and strands of coal-black hair...perfection with a heartbeat.

Shawna turned and looked at the new infant seat in the back and thought about the redecorating they had done at the house, turning one of the bedrooms into a nursery. The desire to hold their baby was almost too much to take. She looked at the clock on the radio - 8:45am - and tried to think. Before noon, the adoption process would be complete and she would hold her baby. The next time she got in the car, they would have a son. When they passed this spot going the other direction, she would be in the back seat, probably feeding little Adam Geoffrey Jensen - that was the name they had picked - his first bottle as a member of their little family.

As they crested the Pass and began their descent, a car pulled around to pass. Geoff thought it was a daring move, given the curves and extremely brief passing zones, so he slowed just a bit to allow the car more room. But it slowed as well, and when Geoff glanced to the left, the window of the passing car was down. Jensen did a double take, realizing too late that he was looking down the barrel of a machine gun. Before he could even speak, his window shattered and he felt the intense pressure as the first of numerous bullets pierced his head and neck - then there was nothing.

The gun fired until its thirty-round magazine was empty, and the passing car accelerated away. The Mercedes continued until the road curved to the left, then drove through the guardrail and came to rest against the snowy embankment on the right side of the road. Inside, the bullet-riddled bodies of Geoff and Shawna Jensen had shut down and begun the process of cooling off.

* * *

Later that Afternoon

As the applause faded, the Palm Beach Police Commissioner got up and walked to the podium. He adjusted the mic and began to speak. "This is an auspicious event. We are here today to recognize and celebrate the actions of one of our officers. The Palm Beach Police Department is filled with men and women who strive to serve and protect the people of our great city. All of you have my utmost respect, my complete support, and my total endorsement. I am proud to be your Commissioner. There are occasions, however, when the actions of officers merit special attention, and this is one of those occasions. Captain Harry Lipschitz will now read the affidavit he submitted."

The Commissioner turned and Harry got up and approached the dais, holding a piece of paper. "Good afternoon and thank you all." He looked down at the paper and began to read.

 _"On the evening of February 3, 1994, at approximately 6:30pm, Homicide Detective Sergeant Christopher James Lorenzo arrived at the home of his partner, Homicide Detective Sergeant Rita Lee Lance. He found her door open and, upon entering the residence, discovered Sergeant Lance badly beaten and held hostage by Hector Illev Castellana. According to documents retrieved from Interpol, Castellana was an Ecuadorian-born, Russian-trained assassin with thirty-four known kills and twenty-two probable kills to his credit. He was hired to kill both Sergeant Lance and Sergeant Lorenzo. With no regard for his own personal safety, Sergeant Lorenzo engaged Castellana and attempted to secure the release of his partner. When that failed, Castellana simultaneously stabbed Sergeant Lance with a knife - his intent being to eviscerate her - while shooting at Sergeant Lorenzo in an attempt to kill him. Sergeant Lorenzo returned fire, killing Castellana. Remaining calm, he promptly administered first aid to his partner as best he could, called for help, and kept Sergeant Lance alive until medics arrived. Subsequent interviews with emergency medics on the scene, witnesses in the building where Sergeant Lance lives, and numerous doctors that worked on - and with - Sergeant Lance, provided a single conclusion. Sergeant Christopher James Lorenzo's selfless actions, in the face of his own death, were instrumental in saving the life of his partner, Sergeant Rita Lee Lance. Therefore, it is my recommendation that Sergeant Lorenzo be awarded the Palm Beach Police Medal of Valor for his actions. Signed, Captain Harry Lipschitz, Monday, February 7, 1994."_

Harry looked up at the audience. "Homicide Detective Sergeant Rita Lee Lance will now speak concerning her partner and his actions." There was absolute silence as Harry turned from the podium and took his seat. The Commissioner turned and nodded and Rita got up and walked to the podium. Those that knew her well could see she still moved slowly and with more effort than usual. She paused and looked over the small auditorium, filled with fellow officers, city dignitaries, and members of the press. Already emotional, she looked down at Chris, sitting in the front row, realizing there was almost no way she could get through what she wanted to say without breaking down.

"I'm not much of a public speaker, so I'll be brief. I want to thank the Commissioner and Captain Lipschitz for allowing me to say a few words this afternoon. By rights, I shouldn't be here today. I shouldn't be standing in front of you, talking about the best partner an officer could have. I should be dead - buried and gone. Five weeks ago, Hector Castellana told me he was going to kill me - he was going to cut me into pieces - but not until he had beaten and raped me. He accomplished at least part of the beating, but because Sergeant Lorenzo intervened, that was as far as Castellana got."

She paused to wipe her eyes and then her nose.

"Those of you that know Christopher well know that he is brash on occasion and that he is always confident. But there is another side to Chris as well. As the Commissioner said, he is an officer that, above all, desires to serve this community and he has risked his own health and life on occasions too numerous to tell. As my partner, he is a selfless companion, and he is the consummate protector. I'm an adult and can take care of myself, but unless you have a partner like Christopher, you have no idea how freeing it is to know that I have him as my backup."

She daubed her eyes again. This was even more difficult than she first imagined.

"He is always there for me. I never, ever, worry about his support or his loyalty to me." She paused for a moment, thinking. "I want to tell you a little secret. It's rather coincidental that the night before I was attacked, after a particularly emotional day, he and I talked about this very thing. I told Chris that if the need arose, I knew he would do anything to save me. I knew - I didn't suspect, I didn't hope, I didn't wish or imagine. I just knew. But I had no idea that twenty-four hours later, I would experience it first-hand."

"My guts are still healing as are my stomach and face, and therapy - which I started last week - is hideous," she paused as quiet laughter rippled through the room. "But my heart is whole and it is filled with gratitude," her voiced cracked and she began to cry, "for the man that was willing to trade his life for mine - my partner, my rock, my best friend, Sergeant Christopher Lorenzo. Come up here!"

The room erupted in cheers and those in their chairs began standing when Chris, in full uniform, stood and walked up the stairs to the platform. As Harry and the Commissioner approached the podium, Rita hugged Chris through her tears - ignoring the flashbulbs from the cameras around the room - and kissed his cheek. Then she whispered in his ear, "Thank you, Christopher. Thank you. You know I love you."

"I love you, too, Rita," Chris whispered with a smile and eyes welling with tears. Rita put her hand up and wiped his face where her mascara had smudged his cheek a little.

When the applause subsided, the Commissioner spoke to Chris. "On behalf of the grateful City of Palm Beach, I award you the Palm Beach Police Medal of Valor." He handed the metal bar to Harry, who turned and pinned it in the proper spot on his uniform. Harry and Chris saluted each other as the ceremony concluded and the audience applauded again.


	2. Anticipation

Three Weeks Later

Chris sat at his kitchen counter looking at the pile of brochures in front of him. It seemed as though he had been staring at them for weeks, but was still no closer to a resolution. It was always like this when it came to making a vacation decision. Maybe if I took more vacations, he thought to himself, it would be easier to pick a destination.

There was a part of him that really wanted to see mountains, but the only things in Palm Beach that had anything remotely to do with mountains were the basically flat paths labeled 'mountain bike trails', and those definitely didn't suffice. Therefore, he was focusing on places out West, like Colorado and Utah. Chris had a desire to ski - he had never done it before, but loved to watch it in the Winter Olympics - so this time of year seemed ideal for the trip.

The knock at his door broke his train of thought and he straightened up. It was either the pizza he had ordered or it was Rita, who was coming over to share it with him. "Hey Chris, it's me!" he heard her announce, just before she opened the door and came in.

"Hi Rita," he got up from the stool and walked over to her. He gave her a hug, took her jacket - it had been unseasonably cool the last few nights - and hung it on the rack. "Thanks for coming over. Dinner should be here any minute. I hope you're hungry because it's a large-for-a-medium-price tonight."

"Large for a medium? You really know how to spoil a girl," she replied, laughing and walking over to the counter to peruse the spread of papers. "It's pretty chilly outside, so actually, eating pizza in sounds great. Thanks for the invite. What did you do today?"

He stood beside her as she shuffled through the brochures. "Oh, you know, typical Sunday stuff. Some laundry, some housekeeping. I went for a run this morning, did a few rounds on the heavy bag, and cleaned the pistols after yesterday's time at the range. I also ran to the store and picked up a couple of things. You?"

"Laundry and cleaning as well, but Sunday is a rest day, so that's what I tried to do. Friday afternoon was the last PT session for my abs, and I was very sore yesterday, so I took it easy. I feel a little better today and should be ready to carry it forward on my own - maybe with a little help from a good partner. Know anyone?" she added with a smirk and a wink.

Chris laughed, "I have the name of somebody. Are you alright with me looking again?"

It had been almost two months since the closing of the Garcia-Schmidt murders and the brutal attack that nearly killed Rita. The incident had rocked the department and Chris especially. Her recovery had gone well, but it came with a price. Rita missed a full month of work and then re-qualified with her firearm, but nearly lost it when apprehending a criminal her first week back. She was forced to attend training in hand-to-hand combat, which led to the discovery of two dirty cops and again put her life in danger. Fortunately, all turned out well - despite a brief suspension - and she had not been injured a second time, but it had been a near thing.

"Chris, I'm doing well, nearly back to one-hundred percent. You don't have to worry. But yeah, you can take a peek." She lifted up her sweater to just below her chest and Chris looked at her belly and gently ran a hand over the fading scar. She felt a little shiver as goosebumps formed on her arms and her back. She knew better than to allow that when he touched her, but couldn't help it when he did.

"Oh, Rita, it looks fantastic! The surgeons did their best work on you. It's almost completely gone."

"Yeah, it's getting harder to see, but I'm glad for the reminder," she said, looking down at the floor. "I don't ever want to forget what you did for me."

"Hey, I tried to do what any good partner would - keep you safe."

"Well, you did a lot more than that. You saved my life twice in the span of twenty-four hours. Don't get all big-headed about it, but don't sell yourself short, either. Captain Lipschitz sure didn't, which is why you have that medal." She paused before continuing, "So, have you finally decided on a vacation spot?"

"No, and I was hoping to get a recommendation from you. Are you feeling good enough for me to go?"

It had been three weeks since Captain Lipschitz had received approval for Chris' bonus week of vacation, the result of his good work in the Garcia-Schmidt murders. He had initially been grateful for the department's generosity, but had later reconsidered, thinking the Captain had birthed the idea simply out of sympathy for the suffering his partner had endured.

"Of course I'm fine. Look at me. I'm good and I want you to go. You earned it! But let me ask you - are you alright to go?"

For Chris, the nightmares had been the worst. That first night Rita had returned home from the hospital, Chris stayed with her and slept on the couch, just to make sure she was all right. But it was he that struggled the most, dreaming he was on her staircase watching while her assailant, an evil killer named Castellana, pulled out his knife and stabbed her repeatedly. As she died, her screams became his own and he woke yelling her name. Rita had raced out of her room, offering reassurance and comfort and confirming it was only a dream, but it seemed so real to him.

It was the first of numerous sleepless nights. The dreams were always the same - Rita attacked and killed by her attacker. It got to the point that Chris feared going to sleep. He told no one about it except Rita, choosing to work through the issue himself. She noticed that he had become much more protective of her, afraid of letting her out of his sight. Rita really appreciated the attention, but he was becoming a bit clingy.

Chris thought for a moment and said, "I'm not sure about it now. I think I should put it off until later. It still doesn't feel right for..."

"Chris...no. We had this discussion already. The Captain gave you that bonus time for good work, not because of what happened to me. You earned it. I got a bonus week, too, and not because I was attacked. We broke up a major drug-trafficking pipeline. The ringleader is dead and gone and her number-two man could be facing the death penalty. This would have qualified as a major federal case, and we solved it. So yeah, I think we earned a little something extra."

She thought for a moment and added, "And to make sure you take the time, maybe I..." Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door, and Rita turned to answer it, but Chris took her arm and said with a quick smile, "No, that's alright, Sam, I'll get it." He pulled out his wallet and went to the door, leaving his suddenly very exasperated partner standing there. He paid for the pizza, tipped the delivery guy and told him thanks, then turned around to see Rita scowling at him with her hands on her hips.

"Alright Chris, that's enough!"

"Wha..."

"Don't give me that 'what'! You and I both know exactly what you did! It was the pizza guy, Chris, not a hit man. I appreciate so much you wanting to protect me, but give it a rest! You're starting to get a bit ridiculous and a little overbearing. I'm not a child, and there is almost no one in the world that will knock on our doors seeking to kill me - or you."

Chris took one feeble attempt to deflect. "That's not it at all. Actually, I just wanted to pay..."

"Don't lie to me, Chris! Maybe you did want to pay, but that is not 'just' what you were doing. You answer the door for me at my place now. You insist on walking through doors and around corners before I do. You've done everything but a pat-down search on the paperboy when I'm around."

She softened her tone and walked over to him. "Look, I know what happened to me was awful for you, too. You still feel partly responsible, even though you aren't. You told me about the dreams, and I suggested you talk to someone - a counselor, a psychiatrist, that hospital chaplain, anyone. You need to get past this." Then she smiled and put her arm around him. "You're fortunate I'm such a gracious partner that loves you and continues to put up with you."

"I'm sorry, Rita. I'll try to conquer the over-protectionist-dad syndrome." He paused. "You still want to stay and eat with me?"

"Of course I do. I love your company and I'm starved." She smiled. "I'm not really mad at you. I just want you to ease up a bit, ok?" She kissed his cheek. "Everything is going to be fine."

They sat down, dug into their pizza, and pored over the brochures. Chris was very interested in Breckenridge and Copper Mountain, but Rita thought he would love Park City, Utah. She had always wanted to see Salt Lake City and its famous lake, and Park City was right there.

She continued to study the Park City brochure. "And look at all the ski places they have. You could be there a week and ski a different set of runs every day. As I was saying before the pizza guy showed up, if you can't make yourself take the time, maybe I can take my week and go with you."

Chris immediately perked up and he looked at her, eyes wide with anticipation, "Really? You would go with me?"

Rita smiled that you-know-better smile and answered, "Sure. All you need to do is let the Captain know we're going together and get him to sign off. I'm sure he'll have pen in hand..."

Chris laughed and nodded, "Yeah, you're right. Harry would never allow it. I guess I'll just have to dream about you out there," he said with a chuckle. "So you have me leaning towards Park City now. I think that might be my choice. I can't get everything arranged this week, but maybe next week."

Rita offered to help him with plane tickets and hotel reservations. "I have a friend who is a travel agent, and she is always hitting me up with travel deals. If you want, we can take the lunch hour tomorrow and talk with her - see what she might be able to package together. Is that alright?"

Chris gave her a sidelong glance, "Now who's being motherly?"

"Don't you dare, Christopher," she laughed. "I think it's movie time. What should we watch?"

Rather than dig into the archives, they decided on a newer release and chose _The Fugitive_ , which Chris had just purchased. Neither of them had seen it yet and both were fans of Harrison Ford. Chris made up a big batch of popcorn - lightly salted and buttered, just the way she liked it - and they sat down in front of the TV.

Rita shivered a bit, so Chris grabbed a blanket and threw it over her. Once again, she curled up and snuggled into him. Yeah, he thought, she should not go with me. It was becoming more of a challenge to keep things above-board in normal, every-day situations. In a vacation setting, with beautiful surroundings and no oversight of any kind, it would be nearly impossible to remain platonic around her. Then he would probably overstep their boundaries and she would reject his advances, and things would be awkward for a while. He put his arm around her, kept it in one place, and enjoyed the movie.

By nine, Rita was out the door and headed toward her place on the beach. She worked through traffic, laughing at the thought of them vacationing together. She felt a twinge of excitement when Chris responded so positively to her suggestion, but there was no way they could share a room, even one with two beds. Even separate rooms were probably too close. It was sometimes difficult to keep her hands off him in the office, and there were times he simply melted her heart - along with the barriers that protected her libido. By themselves at a ski resort - with snow and fireplaces and hot tubs and wine - she would be a goner.

At ten, Chris called to make sure she was all right, giving the excuse of needing the travel agent's name and number. "Go to bed, Chris. I'm fine!" she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, while smiling at his continued hovering.


	3. Interruption

Rita met Chris outside the office doors next morning as he was walking in. He could tell something was up and that she wanted to catch him before he got to his desk.

"Hey, Sam. I got here a little early this morning, and guess what I saw."

Chris merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Captain has someone in his office, and you'll never guess who it is."

"Rita, it's a little early on a Monday to have me guessing this much, but alright...uh...your boyfriend Dominic DiBarto."

Rita snorted and rolled her eyes, "Get serious, Chris! Nope, I knew you'd never get it..."

And that was as far as she got, because Harry poked his head through the doors and said, "Good grief! I've been waiting all morning for the two of you. I have no idea why you're out here roaming the halls when I need you both in my office. Let's go!"

Chris gave a puzzled look to Rita, and she returned a smile as they followed Harry through the doors and towards his office. When they reached the threshold, the visitor stood and turned to greet them, and a huge smile broke on Chris' face.

"Lieutenant Hudson! What a surprise!" Chris threw his arms around his former commander and clapped his back a couple of times.

"It's 'Captain Hudson' now, Lorenzo, and it's great to see you again! Rita? You look as lovely as ever. I heard about what happened to you last month. I'm so sorry, but am glad you're doing well," he said, turning to Chris' partner and duplicating his hug before they all sat down.

Rita had noticed her old boss in Harry's office when she first walked in, and wondered if Harry was leaving. The time Hudson spent in Palm Beach had been good and she was thrilled he was visiting, but she had really come to love Harry and his wife. Captain Lipschitz was tougher than his predecessor, but possessed an enormous reserve of quirks and oddities that - while sometimes incredibly bizarre - made him so endearing and accessible as a boss. So while she was ecstatic to see Captain Hudson again, she was a bit nervous as well.

After a few minutes of pleasantries and catching up, Rita decided that if her Captain was moving on, she might as well rip the Band-Aid off and deal with it. She smiled, masking her concern, and asked, "So, what brings you back to Palm Beach? Is there another transfer in the works?"

Harry answered, "Actually, yes. A transfer of sorts. Or rather, the opportunity for a temporary transfer." He pointed his fingers at the two of them. "Your transfers." He paused for effect, watched his two detectives look at each other with raised eyebrows, and then turned to Captain Hudson. "I think I got their attention - not too bad for a Monday morning. You have the floor."

"Thanks. I started discussing this with your Captain several weeks ago and got his blessing, which is why I'm here. Ok, let me preface all of this by saying two things."

"First, as Harry mentioned, this is an opportunity for you, but you have the right of refusal. Once I explain everything, you will understand why I'm asking you, but if you say no, that's totally cool. No bad feelings, no black mark in your files, nothing. We simply move to our second option. Second, I want you as a team, so I get you together or not at all. If one of you opts out, you both opt out. Again, if the answer is no, nothing on your record, zilch. But you need to make the decision as a couple."

Chris leaned forward, "Wait, a 'couple'? What is this about?"

Their former boss replied with a bright smile, "Now I'm the one that has your attention. I said that right - a 'couple'. Here's the deal. Authorities in California have been working with the FBI for nearly six months on what appears to be a black-market baby-smuggling operation. Infants are being stolen from hospital wards in distressed and Third-World countries, brought to the States as contraband, and sold as part of an underground adoption system."

Chris listened, saddened for the families suffering the losses, but not really sure what he and Rita would, or could, do. Hudson pushed on.

"The families that adopt the children believe they are working with a legit boutique adoption agency, and the fees and paperwork all look official, but the agency is a sham. It's totally illegal."

"So where do we come in? We're in Palm Beach," Rita asked. She had begun to take an interest in helping exploited children, particularly young girls, so this seemed right in her wheelhouse. But it was somewhat strange given the distance between Florida and California.

Their former boss didn't hesitate. "You won't be needed in California. Authorities there are working to figure out if the children are coming into the country there. It makes the most sense given the nationalities of the children - mostly Asian. But they're having trouble nailing anything definite down. So while they're working that angle, I've been tasked to find a team to work on the adoption side - that's where you would come in."

Chris put a finger up and asked with a puzzled look, "So again, how did you, clear over here on the East Coast, get involved in a West Coast operation? And if you're not sure where the children are coming into the country, how did you discover the scam in the first place?"

Rita immediately followed up, "And you mentioned the FBI. Why don't they have their own people tasked to this? Why are you here and not them? Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to see you! It's just a bit unusual."

Captain Hudson smiled and said, "Very good, you both are thinking this through. You have that inquisitor's knack that I loved - still love. All of your questions are related, so let me step through this. First, the discovery of the crime. Six families have come forward. They adopted children, but when they applied with their local jurisdictions for Social Security numbers and other papers, the agency documents came back as fraudulent. Since three of the families happen to be in the same city - Colorado Springs - it got noticed. Some inquiries were made and the documents traced back to the same adoption agency, now long gone."

"That raised some eyebrows in Colorado, which led to more investigation. They discovered three other families - in Texas, New Hampshire, and Minnesota - with the same paperwork difficulties. One of those families adopted from the same agency as the first three, and the other two from a different agency. We believe it's the same group bouncing around under different guises. That got the Feds interested."

"As you might imagine, this is terribly traumatic for the families involved. Some have waited years to adopt, some have gone through the pain of miscarriage and loss - and now this. The children are still with the adopted families, but every possibility exists that the authorities will be required to remove the children and return them to their rightful parents if our suspicions prove out."

He paused for a moment. "As to my involvement, it doesn't start in California. It's in Jackson Hole, Wyoming."

"The land of the super-rich," Chris said with a chuckle.

"There's plenty of every class out there, but yeah, there's a lot of money, too. Ok, the most recent adoptions have been finalized in the Jackson Hole area. The top dog on the police force out there is an old cadet buddy of mine and he contacted me. He has been working to crack this thing from the front side - the adoption-agency side - without success. He got close..." Hudson let the statement hang, desirous of a question, which Chris provided.

"What went wrong?"

"Captain Winston had two of his officers go undercover, posing as husband and wife, to work the adoption process and hopefully take them down, but he believes the team was discovered by those running the scam. Unfortunately, they were gunned down three weeks ago as they drove to pick up the child, two very good officers killed."

He opened his briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope, which he opened and handed to Rita. "Be careful, these aren't for a queasy stomach."

Rita removed the eight-by-tens, showing the grisly remains of Geoff and Shawna Jensen. "God have mercy..." she whispered sadly before closing her eyes and handing them to her partner, who looked them over.

"Wow," Chris said, "somebody blew them apart. Oh my..."

"Captain Winston is taking this very personally. The woman you see in the passenger's seat is Sherri Winston, his daughter-in-law. Married to his son for four years, on the force for five, and mother to his little one-year-old granddaughter. And Sherri was five weeks pregnant."

Rita closed her eyes again and shook her head.

"The man is John Sebring, another talented officer in Jackson Hole, married six months. Their loss has cut the police force in Jackson by twenty-five percent. It also highlights the mistake Winston now believes he made. He picked his undercover team from a group that was too small and too well known in the area - too easily identified and marked. He really wants to take them down. They've added double murder - actually, triple murder - to all the crimes with the human trafficking."

Rita piped up, "So Captain Winston called his friend Captain Hudson and asked for help - an outside undercover team. And you flew to Palm Beach to request that Chris and I get married and go to Wyoming as a couple wanting to adopt."

Chris blinked a couple of times and looked at Rita.

Hudson smiled. "Close, except for the 'getting married' part. You can just pretend that piece of it. After Winston spoke to me, he called the FBI and they brought me in as a liaison to the case. I've been working with Captain Winston and, more recently, with your Captain to create the dossiers for each of you and get all of the necessary paperwork and background details done and in place."

"Thanks to our people and the information we got from the other victims in this, you've already been in contact with the agency and you plan to arrive in Jackson Hole either Thursday or Friday. The backgrounds we built have been vetted and approved by the agency," he paused to chuckle, "they've been checking you out and you didn't even know it. You have initial meetings with the adoption agency next week and hopefully, the adoption process takes place shortly after that, maybe before the end of the week."

Rita looked at Chris, knowing this was the time for him to talk about his vacation plans. He said nothing about them, but asked, "And if the answer from us is 'no'?"

Harry responded, "Our people will call the agency, you will 'back out' of the adoption, and Captain Hudson gets on a plane tonight and returns home. He knows two officers with some undercover experience in Raleigh, North Carolina. He will start the process with them, and they won't have an option to say no. It will take a few weeks to set things up, but if it's not you, it's them."

"Harry is exactly right. Again, I came to you as my first choice, because I know your undercover work as a married couple first-hand, but you are not required to say yes. We should not underestimate these people. They are serious about protecting their crimes, and those photos show what they will do to stay out of prison. And they will be more wary now. We want as many of this group as we can nab...all the way to the thieves stealing the babies. We really want to ride down this rabbit hole as far as possible."

Rita looked at Chris, then asked, "Can Chris and I look over the information, talk it through, and then give you an answer?"

Hudson nodded, "Absolutely. It's a lot to process. I'm not your boss, but if I were, I'd tell you to take the rest of the day off, study the dossiers, talk it over, and give me your answer first thing in the morning. My flight out isn't until noon tomorrow.

Harry chimed in with a smile, "I am your boss, and I'm telling you to take the rest of the day off, study the dossiers, talk it over, and give us an answer tomorrow morning. Any more questions?" he paused for a moment before pointing at the folders and smiling, "Good! You have your homework, enjoy your 'day off', and we'll see you tomorrow. Now get lost!" he concluded with a chuckle.

When they got up and left, Hudson stood up and looked around. "Well, I don't necessarily care for all the Yankees memorabilia, but other than that, I love what you've done with the place."

Harry laughed, "Yeah, well, we can't all be Braves fans. They have a good team. I wouldn't be surprised if my Yankees are forced to beat them in a Series in the not-too-distant future."

Hudson laughed in turn. "We'll just have to see. Do you think Chris and Rita will accept this case? More importantly, do you think Rita is ready? From what you've told me, she's been through an awful lot the last few months."

"Without a doubt they will," Harry said without hesitating, "It isn't a traditional 'silk stalking', but that won't stop them. As for Rita, she will be fine. She had a rough go here recently, but Chris believes she has recovered and I do, too. She was very angry with me about the suspension, but I did that more to protect her - she was throwing herself into the path of a couple of dirty cops with violent tendencies - than because of performance. I did not put it on her permanent record. I think she understands that now and we're good."

Harry thought for a moment before continuing. "To be honest, I'm actually more worried about Chris. Something changed in him after Rita's assault. I can't quite put my finger on it, but he's not the same. He's who I'm watching now. Say, you hungry? We should go get a late breakfast. I can call Frannie and see if she wants to join us. I know she would love to catch up with you."

* * *

"This is delicious, if you don't mind me bragging just a bit. So why didn't you tell the Captain about your upcoming vacation?" Rita figured Chris would be quick to bring that up in the discussions and was a bit surprised he kept quiet. They had chosen the Gun Club Cafe for their breakfast, but the place was packed, so after a bit of discussion, they decided to head back to her place, where Rita would cook something up. She put together a batch of French toast that he thought was fantastic.

Chris looked up from his plate and responded with a question of his own. "Do you want to tackle this assignment or not?"

"Absolutely! As a woman who wants to be a mom someday, I cannot imagine my newly-born child being stolen from me and essentially sold on the black market. I would...I...don't even know what I would do. It's horrible!"

"Ok, now you know why I didn't mention the vacation. I can take that anytime."

"But Chris, you rea..."

"Let it go, Sam," Chris looked her in the eye. "I want to do this undercover as well. Those pictures really made me mad. I feel like this is payback for those officers as much as it is about the babies."

Rita thought for a moment before asking the one question still hanging over both of them. "So," she let the word draw out, "What about us being married? You going to be ok with that?"

"Oh yeah. We did a pretty good job the last time we did the married thing. We made the bust, we kept out of trouble," then he paused and squinted at her, "and except for you lying about that kiss meaning nothing, everything was perfect! I'm totally cool with it."

"I wasn't lying," Rita retorted with a smile, knowing she was lying to him for the second time. Though she did her best to put a clamp on her feelings, there was no denying that the attraction for her partner had grown as time had passed. They hadn't come anywhere close to any danger zones, but she could feel the tug. That kiss, now so long ago, had marked her.

After the attack in her apartment, Chris kissed her again in the hospital. It was light and very brief, and Rita had done her best to brush it off, but that kiss burned through the terrible pain of her injuries and the numbing power of the anesthetic. Chris Lorenzo had tattooed her soul again, and much as she tried to stay aloof, her resolve regarding him was beginning to waver.

Chris laughed, "I think you're lying about not lying. Anyways, are you going to be all right with being married? We'll probably have to hug and kiss and be kind of romantic and all." He gave her a questioning look.

"Absolutely, no problem at all. We're paid to do a job, and this is another job." She spoke with confidence, but she was lying again. She would need a will of steel to overcome her growing affections. "You going to be alright working with the Feds?"

It was Chris' turn to think for a moment. "If we have Captain Hudson running interference for us, we should be fine. He'll deflect the bureaucratic nonsense - at least I hope he can."

"It sounds like we're saying yes," she said, reaching over and opening the folders, "so we should probably figure out what kind of people..." she held the last word as she scanned for their names, "...Greg and S..." and then she started to laugh.

"Let me see that," Chris said, looking at her sideways and pulling the papers to him. He quickly looked down the page while Rita shook her head and then he stopped and laughed himself. "Greg and Samantha Stone. That is hilarious! What are the odds?" He asked with a smirk.

"He did that because you're a Neanderthal, Chris, and that was the easiest name for you not to screw up." She leaned over and kissed his cheek, adding, "You know I'm kidding."

By noon, the two of them were ready for a break, so they went out for lunch, grabbing some sub sandwiches before sitting on a bench overlooking the beach to eat. They spent the rest of the day studying their personalities and backgrounds.

The Stones were both doctors. Dr. Gregory Allen Stone was a young pediatrician at Maine Medical Center in Portland, Maine. He studied medicine at Emory University before completing his residence and then serving as a medic in Operation Desert Storm, where he met Dr. Samantha Lynn Burrows, an anesthesiologist. By the end of the one-hundred-hour ground campaign, they were in love. Six months later, the whirlwind romance culminated with their marriage in Atlanta, where Greg was working.

In the spring of 1992, Maine Medical plucked Stone from Atlanta, who accepted the position with the proviso that his new wife Samantha be hired as well, a condition the hospital gladly accepted since one of their anesthesiologists had just retired.

Their desire to start a family right away had been crushed by the devastating discovery that Samantha was unable to have children. As a result, Samantha had gone through a short bout of depression that caused much conflict in their home and nearly destroyed their young marriage. However, a brief, three-month separation had given them both perspective and solidified the reality that they truly loved each other, leading to a reconciliation and the restoration of their partnership. It also opened their eyes to the beautiful prospect of adoption. After much introspection and talking with friends who had gone through the process, the Stones decided to pursue adoption themselves.

They discovered the _Hearts of Love Adoption_ agency from an advertisement in the Portland Press and, on a whim, decided to call and get some information. The agency was based out West and the closest office was currently in Idaho Falls, Idaho - a huge distance from Portland - but they offered the fastest processing and very thorough background checks.

"You know, ' _Hearts of Love_ ' sounds so warm and cozy, it's hard to believe it's a giant hoax." Chris looked up from the papers as he spoke. Noon had become late afternoon and the sun was drooping into the west. "I'm hungry again. Do you want to go out for dinner? Since I'm a rich doctor, I'm buying. I owe you a trip to the Seafood Bar."

Rita laughed at the thought and the memory. The last time they headed there, it turned into a long night waiting for a tow truck when Chris' car broke down. "I don't know, Chris. How ready am I to hitchhike back to town? I'll go, but I'm driving this time."


	4. Competition

The Palm Beach International airport was never a major hub of activity, except in mid-March when the Spring-Break overflow from Daytona Beach meant college students descended on the place for their annual week of drinking, mixed with a bit of boozing it up and alcohol consumption. But that was a couple of weeks into the rearview mirror and now, on Wednesday morning, it was almost as though Chris and Rita were by themselves walking through the place.

Security was a breeze for the two detectives and they had nearly an hour before their flight began boarding. Though airports were rarely considered 'centers of relaxation', it almost felt like a spa to Chris, compared with the previous day's flurry of activity.

Once Chris and Rita gave their consent to go undercover, it set off a chain reaction of responsibilities and tasks. Wardrobes befitting doctors of substantial means were assembled, they continued to polish and perfect their back-stories, and flights were arranged, along with a myriad of lesser details. The two of them remained in the office until late Tuesday night before heading straight home and collapsing into bed. Chris had called her again to make sure she was all right and Rita hadn't even bothered chewing him out. Not only was she too tired to care, there was no point trying to convince him that she was fine - until he simply decided to stop checking in on her, nothing she did or said would make a difference.

They located their gate and as they sat down to wait, Rita pulled out the itinerary. Under normal circumstances, it would have seemed that flying from Palm Beach to Jackson Hole made the most sense. That route, however, was long and included stops in Tampa, Dulles, and Denver before finally arriving in Jackson Hole. More important, though, was the fact that criminals had ways of finding things out. If they discovered a married couple from Maine had actually arrived from Florida, it might raise questions. It could be easily explained away as a vacation or a visit to relatives, but why leave the departure point to chance? Two officers were already dead due to mistakes - every precaution would be taken this time.

Therefore, the detectives were first flying to Maine. They would leave Palm Beach at eleven and, after a stop in Newark, would arrive in Portland at four. There they would check into a hotel room that had been booked for two weeks, but would emerge early the next morning as Greg and Samantha Stone, leaving behind everything tying them to Palm Beach, Chris Lorenzo, or Rita Lance. At that point, their new identities would go into effect and the Stones would board a 7:15 flight out of Portland that would arrive in Jackson Hole at noon, having stopped for an hour in Chicago. That gave Chris and Rita a few days to get acclimated, get a bit of recognition in the area, and solidify their cover. On the other hand, the longer they stayed, the greater the chance of blowing their cover. It was a delicate balance, but the two detectives were confident they could maintain.

As they boarded, Rita admitted she was not a fan of flying and especially hated the takeoffs. When Chris gave her a puzzled look, she continued. "Most plane crashes happen during or right after takeoff, Chris." Of course, when he asked for a source of that information, Rita stumbled with a few words, then finally gave up and just glared at him, "Well, I know I read it somewhere." She plopped down in the window seat, acting frustrated with her partner.

Chris laughed and said, "I can see you need a little space, so I'll just take the aisle seat." He looked around quickly and added, "It's not like there's going to be much traffic in here."

As it turned out, Newark must not have been a very popular a destination for Palm Beach residents and, at least for today, visitors from Newark weren't anxious to get back home. Chris counted just nine passengers in total, and the closest to them were four rows back.

Of course, the nearly-empty plane meant that each passenger got a little more attention, and Rita couldn't help but notice that a young flight attendant - Courtney, according to her name tag - was giving Chris more than just a 'little more' attention. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and was incredibly pretty. After the two detectives stowed their bags and sat down, Courtney walked to the back of the plane, eyeing the two of them carefully as she passed. Rita watched her, guessing the attractive young woman was estimating their level of 'couple-ness'.

When going through the pre-flight safety check, Courtney stopped next to Chris and did her demonstrations, being sure to touch his shoulder a couple of times in the process. When she finished, she moved away, and Rita caught a whiff of her perfume - very nice.

Chris, oblivious to her intent, did nothing. Rita rolled her eyes and chuckled, both at Courtney's obvious interest and at Chris' lack of perception. Once airborne, as soon as the seat-belt sign was off, little Miss Courtney was back.

"Can I get the two of you anything? A pillow? A blanket?" Rita noticed her quick glance down as she spoke - the obligatory 'wedding-band' status check.

"I'm good for now, thanks," Chris said with a smile before turning to Rita. "Sam?"

"Oh, I'm great. I have everything I need," Rita said with a smile towards Chris, knowing exactly what Courtney would say next. She looked up at the flight attendant, whose eyes were locked on hers, examining her interactions with Chris and looking for clues.

"Great, let me know if there's anything I can do." She paused for a moment. "Are you two travelling together?"

There it was, and Rita almost laughed out loud. The first probe of the flight. Courtney was following the book to the letter.

"In fact, we are," Rita said with a smile before Chris could respond. Courtney was good, almost completely hiding her disappointment at the potential hook-up she had just lost.

But then, for some inexplicable reason, Chris - who had no ability to read what was going on but realized this was a pretty girl to talk to - added, "Yeah, we're homicide detectives and Rita and I - my name is Chris - have been partners for years."

"Oh!" Courtney said, giving a quick victory glance to Rita before re-focusing on Chris. "So you're headed to Newark for detective business?" She gave just a slight emphasis to the word 'business' and Rita sat back - Courtney believed she was back in the hunt.

Chris responded with, "Something like that," and Courtney perked up. Rita knew it was 'game-on'.

"Excellent! I hope you both enjoy the flight," Courtney said as she turned and left, but not before glaring at Rita for just a moment. Rita's woman-to-woman translator converted the flight attendant's statement to 'I hope that woman's window breaks and the rapid decompression sucks her out', and she laughed at her own thoughts.

Chris looked at Rita and said, "The flight attendant seems friendly."

"Oh, she will be." Rita said with a smile, holding her sarcasm in check as best as she could. Chris wanted to ask what she meant, but Rita had already opened her book and was reading. Figuring she was still frustrated from the whole plane-crash thing, he grabbed the Sharper Image magazine from the seat back and started flipping through the pages, looking at all the cool gadgets.

When it was time for lunch, here came Courtney again. Rita noticed right away that she had moved her red neckerchief to the side and the top button on her blouse had come undone. She must have caught it on something when moving through the cabin. Chris, still not fully aware of the little face-off taking place, ordered the club sandwich and chips. Courtney leaned over Chris slightly to take Rita's order, trying to increase her exposure, but Chris had turned to see what his partner was going to order.

"I'll just have a Big Mac, fries, and a chocolate shake," she replied, looking at Courtney with complete seriousness.

"Very good, I'll get these right up," Courtney said as she walked towards the next passengers. Chris gave her a questioning look and mouthed 'big mac'. Rita laughed and whispered, "You told the flight attendant we're detectives, so I'm doing a little detective work."

Chris still didn't pick up on it, but it didn't matter because at that moment, Courtney returned laughing, "That was pretty funny, Ms. Rita, but you got me. How about you give me a lunch order I can actually fulfill."

Rita smiled, impressed at Courtney's recall of names and hoping the subtle message - pay attention to your work and not my partner - had been delivered. She changed her order to match Chris.

Either Courtney did not get the message or she was very persistent. When she returned ten minutes later with their food, a second and third button on her blouse had somehow managed to separate. Rita just shook her head at this young woman's brazen behavior. If Chris didn't notice this time, she might just tell him. At this rate, Courtney would be arrested for indecent exposure before they landed. The flight attendant bent over a little further to deliver their trays, and Rita caught a glimpse of a black lace bra and a lot of skin.

Chris was looking at his food, still not seeing what she was doing, and for a moment, Rita actually felt sorry for Courtney. The poor thing was trying everything but strutting to a stripper pole to get his attention and he kept missing it. This was becoming humorous to watch. Rita wanted to take a short nap, but couldn't bear to miss a moment of the in-flight entertainment.

Courtney paid one last visit to Chris when he was dozing, just before they began their descent into Newark. Rita was still reading and caught her walking by from the corner of her eye. Without moving, she watched as the desperate flight attendant paused for a moment and then deftly placed something in his jacket pocket - probably a business card - before moving on. Rita just smiled, knowing they had another leg to travel - she was the winner of this little cat-fight and Chris wouldn't likely see that woman again.

As they got off the plane in Newark, Rita purposely waited a bit in order to be the last person out. When she walked past Courtney, she stopped, touched her arm, and whispered, "You have moxie, I'll give you that. You're absolutely gorgeous, and I have never seen anyone try as hard as you have to get Chris' attention."

The flight attendant returned the smile and said, "I still have one shot left. We'll see if he responds."

As seriously as she could, she said to Courtney, "Don't stay up too late waiting, sweetie. Tomorrow he's going to be married, and his fiancée frowns on pre-wedding trysts." Rita tapped Courtney's arm gently one last time, smiled, then turned and walked away, leaving the young flight attendant speechless, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

* * *

It was cold in Portland. Well, it wasn't cold for Portland at the end of March. Fifty-two degrees with broken sunshine and a light breeze was actually pretty nice, so the locals were outside without jackets and gloves, enjoying what appeared to truly be the start of spring. For Chris and Rita, however, the conditions were anything but spring-like. It was nearly thirty degrees cooler than Palm Beach's forecast high of eighty.

Rita complained about the cooler weather – for the first time - as they waited on the airport curb for their shuttle. "I might already be regretting this decision, Sam. It's pretty cold here."

Chris chuckled as he responded, "Cheer up, Rita. You won't have to worry about fifty-degree weather tomorrow. I checked before we left, and Wyoming is going to be another twenty degrees colder than this. I bet you can hardly wait."

She didn't respond verbally, but Chris got a pretty good idea of her feelings when her head and shoulders drooped and she sighed.

The shuttle arrived a few minutes later and they were on their way to the hotel. The Embassy Suites was the perfect place for them. It was reasonably priced, it was within shouting distance of the airport for tomorrow's early departure, and hotel management had given Palm Beach PD an open-ended reservation, along with a promise to be very discrete about the room's occupants should any questions be asked.

They checked in and went straight to their fourth-floor room. When they opened the door, they were presented with very nice, clean surroundings, two queen beds, a good-sized table and chairs, a large TV, and a standard bathroom. Chris gave his partner the choice of bed and when she picked the one by the window, he flopped down on the other bed, put his hands above his head, and closed his eyes with a sigh, "I need to rest my eyes for just ten or fifteen minutes."

He got no argument from Rita, who opened the curtains long enough to look at the water, then closed them, took her shoes off, and actually crawled under the covers of her bed. "Wake me when you're ready to eat," she said with a yawn. "I need a cat-nap as well."

When Rita opened her eyes, their room was almost completely dark and the only noise she heard was Chris' regular breathing coming from the adjacent bed. She turned to look at the window and could see that the sun had set, though there was still ambient light. When she glanced at the digital clock on the table between the beds, it read 7:16pm - she and Chris had slept nearly three hours. Her stomach rumbled as she slowly sat up and stretched her arms.

"Chris," she said as she exhaled heavily, still a bit groggy, "we need to get up." Chris didn't move, so she dragged herself out of bed and turned on a lamp, went and used the bathroom, then came back and gently shook her partner. "Christopher, wake up."

He stirred and opened his eyes. "Hey there, Sam." Looking around, he asked, "What time is it?"

"Time for dinner. We slept for three hours and it's going on seven-thirty. It's nearly dark outside."

Chris popped up, "I'm so sorry, Rita, I just collapsed - this bed is really comfortable. What would you like to eat?"

"Don't worry," Rita said with a smile. "I needed rest, too. They have a place downstairs that's open until ten, or we could have the shuttle run us someplace. I have a hankering for Italian, though I don't really feeling like doing a bunch of running around. I could eat a shoe if I had to."

"So you want some cobbler, hmmm? Get it?...shoe?...cobbler?" Chris laughed at his joke with a snort.

Rita shook her head, "Clearly your humor is better when you're tired, though that doesn't work out to much of a compliment. That was one of the worst jokes you've ever told."

"Well, I give me five stars for it." Chris got up and looked through the restaurant options in the folder on the table. "Hey, there's an Italian place called Espo's Trattoria that's close by, and it rates four-and-a-half forks out of five on this chart - open until nine and they do carry-out. How about we call in the order, then I can take the shuttle over and pick it up? You can sit and relax a bit."

Forty minutes later, they were sitting at their hotel room table eating their food which, despite its carry-out status, looked and tasted like it rated a full five forks. When they finished, the pair took a quick tour of the hotel, checking out the breakfast room, the main lobby, the pool, and fitness area before stepping outside for a few minutes to watch a couple of planes take off into the night.

Rita shivered and yawned, so they headed back indoors and up to their room. They took turns changing in the bathroom and when Rita came out, Chris was sitting on his bed with the covers turned down and the TV on. He patted the spot next to him and said, "Want to sit with me a bit before turning in?"

She gave no answer, but crawled up next to him and propped two pillows behind her back. They spent some time talking about the assignment and ironing out a few more details. They speculated on what Wyoming would look like - neither of them had ever been there - and what all they would do before really getting down to business on Monday.

"Oh, check this out - look what I found in my pocket when I was changing." He handed Rita a small picture of Courtney in a very skimpy white bikini. Rita looked at it for a moment - more than a little jealous of her perfect figure and that these model-types kept finding their way into Chris' world - then flipped it over, read the little note there, and snorted. Yet another woman with the hots for her partner.

Chris chuckled, "Pretty funny, huh? Flight attendants aren't as demure as they used to be."

On the back, Courtney had written, ' _Chris, if you're available, so am I...and I forgot the bikini. Courtney Rugan_ '. Below that was the name of her hotel, the room number, and the room's phone number. Rita smiled to herself. Courtney was staying at the Doubletree hotel - in Newark. Ms. Rugan was probably suffering through her loss at the Doubletree's bar, checking the prospects there.

"No they're not - and fast girls aren't nice girls, Chris." She tried to sound motherly and facetious, but truthfully, she absolutely did not want her partner trolling around after the flight attendant and was thrilled they were nowhere close to Courtney. "As we speak, she's probably taking some older man back to her room that's been slobbering all over her at the bar."

Rita laughed at her own humor and yawned again. Chris smiled at her. "You know, Rita, I really expect my wife to be more of a night-owl than this. It's not even ten and you're already cashing out. We're going to be married tomorrow and that's something I hope will change." He put his arm around her in a show of mock romance, "You think you can work on that a bit...sweetie?"

Rita looked at him for a moment, then moved in close - as if to kiss him - before giving him an elbow to the ribs and responding, "Yeah, I'll get right on that...sweetie. You know, I do not like my husband collecting mostly-naked photos and phone numbers from strange beautiful women on airplanes. Look, our flight leaves at seven and we need to be up and at the airport at six, so married or no, it's sack time. You have everything Palm-Beach related out of your bags?" When Chris nodded, she said, "Good. Now we'll cross-check each other's stuff to make sure we didn't miss anything, then lights out - and get rid of that poor woman's photo!"

As they looked through each other's things, Chris said quietly, "Oh, I almost forgot." He walked to the closet and pulled two small boxes from his jacket pocket. He opened one and removed a beautiful wedding band made from white gold that he slipped on his ring finger. He went back to Rita, held his hand in front of her, and asked, "So, what do you think of that?"

"Wow, that's gorgeous, Chris! But what about me?"

Chris handed her the other box and she opened it, looked inside, and gasped. She removed a stunning two-carat diamond engagement ring and a diamond-crusted wedding band, both in matching white gold. She looked at Chris with saucer-sized eyes and whispered, "They're incredible!"

Chris went back to going through her bag, but replied, "Yeah. Do you recall saying you wanted a big diamond when you got married? Well, I did, too."

She stood there, trying to wait patiently, and when Chris zipped up her bag, she tapped his arm. "Hey! You are my husband! Aren't you going to put the ring on my finger?"

"What's wrong, Rita? Don't you know how?" When she glared at him, he laughed and said, "I'm just kidding. Give me your hand." As he gently pushed the ring on, she slapped his hand.

"Not that way, Chris! You're doing it backwards. Clearly, you don't know how."

He rolled his eyes. "That's right, because I'm the wedding-ring salesman who does this every day for a living." He turned the pair around and slid them on her finger. They were a perfect fit, and he thought she was even more beautiful than usual. She held her hand in front of her, looking at it in wonder. "Actually, the rings came from contraband seized by Narcotics in that husband-wife drug bust on the boat last year - remember that?" Rita nodded, barely registering his words and lost in thought as she stared at her hand. Chris continued, "We just had them resized slightly to fit our fingers - Mrs. Stone."

"You really outdid yourself, Mr. Stone. These are exquisite!"

Chris took her in his arms and slowly spun her around. "Nothing but the finest for my beautiful wife. Ok, Samantha, I'm ready for bed," he paused for a moment, "Shall we?"

"We shall..." she said with eyes glistening, "...in separate beds. Unlike your little girlfriend Courtney, I'm not a fast girl. So in spite of the hardware, we're still Rita and Chris, at least for tonight. Goodnight...honey," she finished with a snicker.

As the two of them slept, there was a quiet rustling in the coat closet over by the door. One of the mirrored sliders slowly moved on its track, silently gliding to the right. The figure of a man stepped out and into the room and walked silently past Chris' bed. In his sleep, Chris sensed the motion and opened his eyes. Whoever it was stopped at his partner's bed and pulled a gun from inside his jacket - Chris could see the glint reflected from the various city lights casting their glow into the room.

Chris tried to jump up and attack the man, but was unable to move. What was happening? He was firmly tied down! He tried to yell to Rita, but no sound came out. His mouth had been taped shut! This was worse than a nightmare! Somebody save her! The man turned to look at him in the shadows, then rotated back and leaned over, placing the barrel of the pistol to Rita's temple and pulling the trigger. The pistol's discharge shattered the night silence and Chris could see the silhouette of her body jerk as the bullet blasted through her skull.

The man straightened up and turned toward him. The next thing Chris felt was the warm barrel of the gun pressed against the left side of his head. The man whispered, "This is payback..." before switching on the nightstand light with his other hand. Chris' eyes took a couple seconds to adjust, but when they did, there was no mistaking the face...

"Castellana!" Chris yelled in a heavily muffled voice through the duct tape on his mouth. Castellana smiled, "Welcome to Hell, Lorenzo..." and pulled the trigger a second time...

...Chris' eyes opened in a flash, but Castellana was gone. He moved his right hand, then the arm, followed by his left. He was free! He quickly put his hands to his mouth - nothing. He jumped out of bed, suddenly chilled - his body was drenched in sweat. He turned on the table lamp - the same one the killer had just used - and looked at Rita, who was sleeping soundly in her bed with her back to him. His sudden motion and the light coming on caused her to stir and turn to him.

"You alright, Chris? What time is it?" she mumbled, her eyes squinting.

Chris looked at the clock. "It's 11:33. I'm sorry...bad cramp in my calf," he lied, "It'll be gone in a minute here." He fake-hobbled a bit, then leaned against the wall, pretending to stretch his left calf muscle. His beautiful, fully-alive partner smiled and rolled back over, falling asleep again.

He walked quietly to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, and took a moment to collect his wits. "That was bad," he whispered to the mirror before returning to bed and crawling under the blankets. He turned towards Rita's bed and listened for her soft breathing, and that was how sleep eventually took him a second time.

It was the last time Hector Castellana would use Chris' dreams to kill his partner.


	5. Acclimation

Greg and Samantha - or 'Sam', as he often called her - Stone strolled down the cold streets of Jackson, Wyoming. They were used to the mountains and frigid temperatures - Maine had some of both - but they had never experienced anything like the Tetons and Wyoming in late winter. The mountains were spectacular any time of year, but now, smothered in snow and broken clouds, they were breathtaking. They had only been here a few hours, but Greg had already told himself that someday, he and Samantha would have a home here if they could afford it.

The lack of sunshine kept temperatures in the low thirties and they were wearing heavy winter coats, hats, and mittens, to keep the elements at bay. They were walking in shadows, though not in the dark, as the sun had dropped behind the spires of the Tetons to the west, but hadn't set. Store lights and streetlights were on, casting their glow off the light snow that, in surprise contrast to the local forecasts, had fallen earlier in the day. They were looking for something to eat, but the walk in the crisp, chilly air was good to clear their minds and perk them up after their travel.

Their flight from Maine was without incident, other than a twenty-minute delay leaving O'Hare when a plane in front of them experienced a mechanical issue as it taxied. The two of them landed in Jackson just before one, picked up the Audi A6 they had rented, and headed for their hotel. There were numerous lodging options in Jackson, but the Stones were staying in Teton Village at the Teton Mountain Lodge.

Walking through the entrance, they paused to take in their surroundings before heading to the front desk. Giant beams crisscrossed the multi-floor atrium and there were beautiful wooden floors accented with rich rugs. It was elegant without being ostentatious. Their room was a spacious suite, featuring a living room with a very nice kitchen area and a separate bedroom. The bathroom was equally luxurious, having both a large rain-type shower and a Jacuzzi-style jetted tub.

Once the porter had brought their bags and left, Samantha turned to her husband and said, "Wow, this is magnificent! I've never stayed in a hotel like this before."

Greg laughed as he rubbed his hand up and down her back, "And this was a middle-of-the-road place. There are others in the Village that are much more expensive and luxurious than this." His wife shook her head, as though what he was saying couldn't possibly be true.

"I'm ready to ski - should we hit the slopes?"

"Really? Five minutes after we get here? We have the rest of this week and all of next week for that. Plus, it's already mid-afternoon. Tell you what – we can try skiing tomorrow morning in full light before the weekend crowds arrive. If you really enjoy it, and if you survive, we can go again a few times. Right now, I want to see the town, look at the shops, and eat. I skipped breakfast because of the flight and I'm starved! How far is Jackson from here?"

Greg smiled and told her it was about twenty minutes, but inside he was sighing. He did not want to go shopping. Samantha was generally conservative with their money, but when she was in tourist traps, all bets were off. He hoped she would mostly keep her credit cards in her purse.

So here they were, walking the streets of Jackson in the late-afternoon light. They had already visited the town square and taken pictures of the famed antler arches. It was Thursday, so the crowds were light and consisted mostly of locals, but in twenty-four hours, these sidewalks would probably be holding up two or three times the number of bodies. The inch-and-a-half snowfall in town equated to almost ten inches on the slopes, and because the ski season was winding down, people would be out in droves to visit the runs and the town, thinking it might be their last opportunity until the fall.

Walking north from the square, they found a small Mexican restaurant that looked to be worth a try - they were not disappointed. The food was outstanding and the service equally good. Samantha splurged and ordered the sopapillas for dessert - with whipped cream and honey - and they were heavenly. The two doctors left the place stuffed. Most of the stores were open until seven, so they walked in and out of various shops and tourist spots. Greg was surprised that Samantha wasn't buying anything, and he finally spoke up as they were browsing an outfitters store.

"What's the deal, Sam?" he asked as he looked around. "You keep picking things up that you love and then putting them back. You've done that in every store so far. I actually appreciate these few moments when you're...thrifty, but this place has stuff that would look great on you."

Samantha turned around, put her hands on his chest, and offered him a challenge. "You think this place has great stuff? Ok, put together an outfit for me. I'm going to sit over there where you men usually wait for us, and you have ten minutes. Time starts now." She turned and walked away.

Poor Greg wasn't even sure of his wife's shoe size, but was determined to show her up, so he looked at the clock and immediately got to work. He found a sleeveless dress in a beautiful multi-colored pattern that buttoned up the front and looked like it might end several inches above her knees - just a little flirtatious without being trashy. To keep her arms warm, he matched the dress with a teal-colored serape-type thing - he had no idea what it was called - that had a beautiful tied fringe. Six minutes to go. He found a beautiful pair of cowboy boots, laughing at the idea that Samantha had probably never owned a pair in her life. A necklace, a belt with small turquoise accents, and a couple of pretty bracelets for her wrists and he was done. Ninety seconds to spare.

A little full of himself, he carried everything to his wife and smiled proudly at his accomplishment. "Ha! Now, don't say a word, get to a dressing room, and try everything on, and you have ten minutes. Time starts now." One of the nearby store clerks was watching the interaction and laughed - husbands almost never attempted what he had tried and she admired his courage, to say nothing of his extremely good looks.

With a sly smile towards Greg, Samantha headed towards the dressing room while he followed behind. He made to enter the room with her, but she turned and shoved him out the door. "No you don't, you hound. You wait right out there!" Eight minutes later she spoke from behind the door, "Well, I actually think you did alright." She primped for another minute, just to make him wait, and then stepped out. "So what do you think?"

Greg's eyes went wide and his hand went to his mouth. Basically, it was a dress, a shawl, and boots, but she looked incredible. The dress was a perfect fit, accentuating her figure without being skin-tight. It might have been an inch shorter than he had estimated - playful, showing off plenty of her gorgeous legs, but not needing an R-rating. The boots were flat-out sexy! He stammered over a few words before walking over, taking her hand, and spinning her around. "I didn't think you could look more beautiful, but I was wrong. I...I...wow!"

Samantha blushed, and she noticed a couple of men giving her appreciative looks as they browsed the racks with their wives. The store clerk that heard them earlier walked up and looked her over. "That man put this together for you?" When Samantha nodded, the clerk leaned in close and quietly said, "He's a keeper," before turning to Greg, "You did good - she looks fantastic! Should I package everything up for her?"

Before Greg could say anything, his wife quickly spoke up. "I love this - though the boots feel one size too large - but it's too much right now, with the adoption and all." When he opened his mouth to protest, she shook her head, "It's beautiful and you were so sweet to pick it out, but no." She touched the clerk's arm lightly and almost apologized, "Thanks so much for letting me try them on." As she turned and disappeared back into the dressing room, the clerk gave Greg a questioning look.

Greg spoke quietly, "Can you put everything - including right-sized boots - in a nice package and have it delivered to the Teton Mountain Lodge - Samantha Stone?" When she nodded, he asked, "But how do I pay...?"

The woman brushed off the question with a wave of the hand. "Pfft, we do this every day during prime season. Come to the register and give me your credit card information and I will run everything after you both leave. You'll get an itemized receipt and the credit card slip in the package when it's delivered in the morning. Sign the slip and return it to the front desk at the Lodge. They let us know and our courier will pick it up at the end of the day. Easy as pie, and since we're nearing the end of the busy season, everything is twenty-five percent off! I have to say, I don't see many husbands have much success picking clothes for their wives - you're a sweetie!"

Greg thanked her and finished up just before Samantha exited the dressing room carrying everything. The clerk - Greg now knew her as Katherine - met his wife. "Give me those things, honey, and I'll get them put back for you. I have to run help the lady over there, but if you have more questions, just holler. Otherwise, enjoy your time here and come visit us again!"

Two hours later, they were back in their room, having walked much of the downtown area. Greg hoped that was the extent of their shopping for this trip - but was pretty sure it wasn't. He also hoped she wouldn't be upset when the package arrived tomorrow. It was a bit extravagant, but after seeing her wearing it, there was no way he wasn't going to see her in it again.

They had taken their time driving up the hill from Jackson to their hotel, stopping at a couple of places so she could browse some more. A couple of restaurants looked good as well, and they filed them away as possible dinner options.

Greg looked through the nightly entertainment brochure on the desk. "Hey Sam, there's live music and dancing tonight at a place across the parking lots. Want to go check it out? I wouldn't mind getting some kind of dessert or maybe a drink for the night."

She looked at him, squinting. "You just had a little dessert and a beer at the Mexican place. But I'm game, if we don't stay out too late."

Fifteen minutes later, they were walking through the doors. A local band was jamming and, to be honest, the music was pretty good. They sat at a small two-person table and within a minute or two, a young waitress was on her way to get them a glass of wine, a small beer, and something called a Mud Pie that sounded really tasty. She returned, handed off their drinks and the dessert with two forks, and moved on.

"The music's solid!" Greg nearly shouted to be heard across the table. He took a couple small sips from his glass, then a bite of the dessert, which looked too rich even for doctor money. He chewed a couple of times, then attempted to speak above the music with his mouth full, "You have to try this. It's phenomenal!"

Samantha hesitated - ever mindful of her figure - but temptation got the best of her and she took a bite. "Mmm...delicious, but way too rich for me." She took a couple more small bites and then pushed it toward her husband. "The rest is yours." Greg needed no further encouragement and dug in.

When the plate was starting to look a bit bare, he got up and held out his hand. "Want to dance?" Samantha smiled and said, "Well, I was hoping you'd ask - maybe just one or two." She drained her glass and set it down as he pulled her to the floor, where he took her in his arms and spoke softly in her ear, "This will be fun," his warm breath tickling her.

They danced slow dances, fast dances, and every strange hybrid in between. The band was outstanding, playing a mix of country and rock that kept the floor moving. They also played a few smooth jazz tunes - the secondary guitarist was also an accomplished sax player - which Greg especially loved. It wasn't until the crowd was starting to thin out that they realized they were dripping with sweat and exhausted. Greg helped her into her coat and they walked, hand-in-hand, across the parking lots and back to their hotel. Once inside, they headed for the elevator that took them to their third-floor room.

"It's after midnight! I'm sorry, Sam, I had no idea." Greg noticed the time on the microwave when they walked in and couldn't believe they had been out close to four hours. "My feet will be sore tomorrow."

"I'm sore already," Samantha said with a smile. "But that was really fun and I'm glad we went. Thank you, Gregory. I love you." She walked over and hugged her husband, then reached behind his neck to his wet hair, pulled him close, and kissed him gently. She turned around, ditched her coat, and walked into the bathroom. Greg heard the water start running in the tub and he sat in the chair, rubbing his shins and calves a bit.

After a while, the water stopped and all was quiet for a few minutes until she called, "Greg, could you come here please?"

He walked into the warm bathroom and paused. Samantha was in the tub, which was rimmed with a thick layer of fluffy suds that smelled like coconut. Only her head and neck were visible. "Yeah?"

"This jet tub is really comfortable and it's made for two. Aren't you coming in?"

Everything went fuzzy and suddenly, Greg Stone was gone, replaced by Chris Lorenzo, who stood there trying to find his jaw, which had apparently fallen through the floor and landed somewhere near Shanghai. "Rita," he said quietly, blinking in shock, "uh...what?"

"My name isn't Rita. It's Samantha Stone, and you are my wonderful husband, the man who ogled me in the store after picking out a wonderful outfit, then took me dancing and rubbed all over me for hours. Now are you joining me or not?"

Chris looked at her, trying to figure out if this was a dream. Samantha reached over, turned on the massage jets, and spoke over the hum, "I'm not sleeping with a dirty husband, no matter how much he's aroused me tonight, and the water won't stay hot forever..." She closed her eyes and leaned back, relishing the jets that pulsated against her back, arms, and tired feet.

This was not the first time a beautiful woman had invited him into a tub, but for the first time, Chris had no idea what to do. Her eyes were closed and it seemed so relaxing. He said a quick prayer that he wouldn't regret this later...

Greg quickly got undressed and stepped into the steamy water, before the thoughts running in his mind made their presence known in other, more tangible ways. He sat down, and Samantha opened her eyes and smiled. "Doesn't it feel good? The jets are wonderful!" Greg nodded and smiled, though he seemed a bit unsure of himself, almost afraid of talking or even moving. Samantha spun around and slid across the tub, backing into his belly and pulling his arms around her waist. He could feel the small ridge of her abdominal scar.

Chris was back, and he froze. Mind over matter, mind over matter, he kept telling himself, but it wasn't working. Then Rita joined him. "Alright, Christopher, let's work through this. We are supposed to be married, so some things will have to happen. That's why we're here three days early. We need to be intimate with each other, playful, even a little frisky, and that will take a bit of practice. We are going to sleep in the same bed, even though we won't do it - you know - carnally. If we don't sell this, we risk ending up filled with bullet holes, just like the Jensens. I don't want that, so work with me."

Chris took a deep breath. It was almost impossible to think with this beautiful woman sitting between his legs. "Let me say something, too. You know I love you, Rita, and I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you. I want to be a perfect gentleman, but that will be harder in this situation. Promise me you won't get too angry if I make a mistake, and I'll do everything possible not to put you in a position to get angry." She gripped his hands under the water and whispered, "I know you will." He slowly moved his hands up and down her sides and took a deep breath - she was completely naked. Now he was terrified, but she was right, there had to be familiarity. Greg returned.

"Mmm…I love your hands on me. When we work, I think about this all the time. Will you massage my shoulders and back?"

Greg began kneading her trapezius muscles gently, slowly adding more pressure as he worked on the knots in her shoulders. Then he began moving down her back, focusing on the muscles that paralleled her spine, while simultaneously working his own feet in the jets. The process not only helped him relax, but also kept him occupied enough to calm the stirrings he had been feeling elsewhere.

After ten or fifteen minutes, Samantha took a deep breath and ducked her head completely under the water, staying submerged for several seconds before popping back up. She turned to face Greg, wiping the suds from her hair and face. She reached around him to grab the hotel's shampoo bottle, and her body brushed against his. She looked him in the eyes and kissed him slowly, allowing her mouth to open and her tongue to just play on the tip of his lips for a moment before pulling away. "Thank you, my shoulders feel so much more relaxed now. Here, would you shampoo my hair for me?" She turned her back to him again and snuggled in close.

Greg poured the shampoo into his hands, rubbed them, and worked it into her hair. The lather began to build as he slowly massaged her scalp, working all along her hairline and forehead before moving back to the top of her head, adding just a little more pressure with his fingertips. His wife moaned quietly as he worked his magic, "Greg, that's so nice..."

She pulled away and disappeared again, and he could tell she was rinsing her hair and scrubbing out the soap. He cleared a spot in the suds and she popped her head through, blowing the water out of her face at him while laughing. She moved in again, her elbows on his shoulders, her hands working through his hair, and her body resting against his. He put his arms around her - feeling the warm, smooth, wet skin of her back - and kissed her gently, only pulling away when he needed to breathe.

Samantha looked at her husband with a smile, ran her index fingers lightly down his nose and across his lips. She moved back and smiled. "Ok, let's get you cleaned up..."

The water was starting to lose its heat when they finished. She grabbed the towel on the tub's edge and Greg turned to find his. He opened it up and when he turned around, Samantha had already climbed out and wrapped hers around her body. She grabbed another towel to run through her hair.

He walked into the bedroom and finished drying, then found his shorts and tank top and slipped them on. He crawled under the covers and waited. She came out of the bathroom a couple minutes later, wearing her knee-length tee. She walked to his side of the bed, pulled back his covers and climbed over him, straddling his thighs and leaning in close, her wet hair cold as it brushed his cheeks and neck. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him for what seemed a very long time, before sliding off and whispering, "Good night, my love. You see the time? It's 2:15am. I'm a night-owl after all."

He reached over and shut the lights off, and she snuggled into his chest, her hair clinging to the sides of her face and slowly soaking through the fabric of his shirt. She pulled the covers over, enveloping them in luxurious warmth, and sighed softly.

Chris returned briefly, just long enough to observe how absolutely incredible his partner was - she was unlike any woman he'd ever known - and to realize how difficult this part of the job was going to be. Part of him already wished they had turned Captain Hudson down. How could he possibly maintain any form of decorum and keep his hands off Rita? She actually wanted his hands pretty much all over her! Did she really think about him touching her while they worked, or was that part of the act? Such was his curse; a beautiful woman that was also his partner, allowed to touch her like a married woman, but yet not allowed to really touch her at all. It was awful! The good news was that he had some time to figure out how to justify to his Captain the four hundred forty-eight dollars spent on clothes and boots for his partner.

Rita desperately tried to calm herself down as she lay in Chris' arms. She was sure he could feel her heart pounding against her chest wall. The look he gave her when she came out of the dressing room blew her away. No man had ever looked at her like that before - ever. She spent the rest of the evening relishing every moment his hands and body were against her. They had talked about the boundaries in the bath, but he was almost more than she could take. His smooth, wet skin, his eyes, his lips…and still he was the gentleman. She was so wonderfully blessed to have him.

Greg shut his eyes, put his arm around his wife, and drifted off with her to a deep, dreamless slumber.

The sun had already risen when they stirred the next morning.


	6. Explosion

Greg Stone cracked one eye open and was immediately blinded by the Saturday-morning sun, shining directly into their window courtesy of a cloudless sky.

He attempted to roll over, but his entire body protested in pain. He groaned and tried a second time, but he was hurting badly. He turned his head to the left - away from the sunlight – so he could open his other eye. All he saw was a mass of tangled hair lying atop a tank top - his tank top.

He reached out - his body wailing in response - and put his arm around Samantha's waist. She turned to roll over and groaned as well - she was just as sore as her husband. She took his arm and held it to her chest, then brought his hand to her mouth long enough to kiss and nibble his fingers and mumble, "I love you, baby," before drifting back to sleep.

Yesterday had been their first day on the slopes. Greg was reaping the whirlwind this morning, as was his wife, but it had been worth it. Skiing was awesome! The sun had risen before they did yesterday as well, but it was bright and with temperatures predicted to be near forty, it would be perfect on the slopes. As he stirred, Samantha rolled on top of him and began gently kissing his face, his neck, his ears, and his lips. There was no better alarm in the world.

This morning it was a struggle to move, but yesterday his wife had to temper his excitement. He had grabbed the hotel brochures and was looking through them - checking out the ski rental options and procedures - when she got up and headed for the shower. She again called his name from the bathroom and when he turned, all he saw was a naked arm in the doorway holding the t-shirt she had worn the night before. He watched for a second as she dropped it to the floor. Greg thought about joining her, but it was already nine-thirty and he had chores to complete.

He called room service and ordered breakfast for them. Then he called the front desk. Yes, a package had just arrived for Samantha, so he threw on his shoes, ran down and signed the receipt for the outfit, then asked if they could bring it up in about twenty minutes.

Greg got back to the room just as Samantha walked out, disappointed that she showered alone. But all was forgiven when breakfast came and he sat down to eat with her. Ten minutes later, he let her answer a second knock at the door. She carried the box back to the table, giving her husband a puzzled look. He just smiled.

She lifted the cover and unfolded the tissue paper, which revealed the clothes and boots from the outfitters store. "Gregory Allen...!" she glared at him in mock anger. "I told you this was too much! You need to send this stuff back."

"I will not send it back. You looked beautiful in it and you are going to keep it - and maybe wear it while we're here so I can show you off. This discussion is over."

Samantha walked behind him and put her arms around him, planting several kisses on his neck and lips. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, just before nibbling at the earlobe, "I'm already thinking about some ways I can show you how much I appreciate this - later." She nipped his neck again and ran her fingers through his hair before sitting back down and finishing her meal.

An hour later, they were decked out in ski clothes, boots, and goggles, carrying skis and poles toward the lift. Samantha convinced her husband to take two brief lessons before trying even the bunny hills - he should have taken several more, as they both discovered later. Samantha was slightly more accomplished, having skied a few times as a young teen, but it didn't count for much out here. The slopes were busy, and got more crowded as the day progressed and the Friday crowds arrived, but they had a fabulous time.

Greg looked up and could see skiers tackling the more difficult runs. Moved to show off for his wife - who was perfectly content to stay with the novices on the easier slopes - he decided to up the risk factor a little. He stayed away from those labeled with black diamonds, but many of the mid-range slopes offered incredible challenges on their own. Greg quickly figured out why the lessons didn't include 'how to fall down' as part of the itinerary - he had that mastered. He would ski for thirty seconds or so and down he would go, landing hard and sliding through the powder.

Samantha really enjoyed the skiing as well, and she even tackled one of the slightly more difficult runs with her husband. It featured one of those 'ski-in, ski-out' restaurants where they stopped for lunch. They enjoyed burgers, fries, and hot chocolate - and watched other skiers who clearly knew what they were doing - before returning to the slopes. Greg said he wasn't going home until he completed one run without falling down - it took until almost four-thirty - but he did it, and they called it a day. The couple headed back to the hotel, where they ate dinner together on the sofa and tried to watch a bit of TV, but collapsed into bed, two uninitiated skiers who were completely exhausted.

Had the two of them really thought about how they were abusing their bodies on the slopes, they might have taken it easier. But muscles that aren't used very often don't get sore until they're rested after use, and the frequent falls, sometimes on hard-packed snow and ice, really hurt later. So the pain, aching, and stiffness didn't reach full potency until they woke up the next day.

And Greg was living it in full this morning. He had been awake just fifteen minutes, but was already calling this 'suffering Saturday'. His poor wife would be suffering, too, once she started moving around. He carefully moved his hand away from Samantha, who stirred and grunted again, but didn't wake up. The only way to get out of bed was to roll out, so that's what he did. He quietly made his way to the bathroom, feeling like a Mack truck had run him over. He turned on the shower and stepped in, the warm water not helping his condition at all, but waking him up. He limped back to the bedroom - she was still dead to the world - and quietly got dressed.

Not wanting to wake her by talking on the phone, he struggled down to the spa area to check it out. Sure enough, it was open and as he walked up, the man at the counter grimaced and smiled at him. "Ooo, looks like someone went skiing yesterday..."

"Is it that obvious? It was fantastic, but I feel completely steamrolled this morning. Do you have any openings for two? I'm guessing my wife will need some attention, too."

"Yeah, we have an eleven-to-twelve and a two-to-three. Do either of those work?"

Greg took the earlier time slot and told him thanks, and the man replied with a laugh, "Oh yeah, you'll thank us when it's over. Our people are really good at fixing you up." Greg also got a quick tour of the facilities before he left.

When he got back to the room, he heard the shower running. She was up and moving around, so he was hopeful that she was faring better than he was. When she came out of the bathroom, he realized he was wrong - very wrong. She was moving slowly, reaching for objects to help support her, and not smiling.

He looked at her sheepishly and said, "Good morning, swee..."

"Don't 'good morning' me, you ape! I think you succeeded in killing me."

"You look pretty alive to me, Sam."

She took a deep breath, as if even that was a struggle. "That's only because my mind hasn't gotten the notice from my body."

"I'm so sorry, what can I do to help you?"

"Get me in touch with a good divorce lawyer. I'm taking you for everything you own," she couldn't quite get the statement finished without laughing, and then groaning, "Oh, it hurts to laugh." She flopped down on the chair and let out another little yelp. "And it hurts to sit. Even my butt aches!"

Greg smiled through his own pain and took a step toward her. "Well, I can definitely help you with that."

She held a hand up. "Don't touch me! I think I'm about to shatter."

Greg laughed, "I know. I'm really sore, too. We have massages scheduled for eleven down at the spa. Would you be willing to try that before dividing up our assets?"

She gave him a wry smile and groaned as she tried to move. "Yeah, but if it doesn't help, it's over with us and I'm going home to mother and daddy - and you know what they think of you."

He laughed again. Samantha's parents absolutely loved him. Greg was the son Stanley Burrows never had, having raised a brood of three girls he jokingly described as 'a trio of good-looking trouble-makers that kept both stress levels and checking-account balances in the red.'

Fortunately, the massages were wonderful. The woman that worked on Samantha was older, but had very strong hands. It felt a bit strange to have a woman giving the massage, but the only man's hands she wanted on her body were Greg's, so that's how it was. Greg had no qualms about a woman working him over, but he could tell Samantha was keeping a close eye on things. His masseuse was noticeably younger than hers - maybe forty years old - and a little too attractive for Samantha's liking, but she was strictly business, so everything was fine.

The Stones actually felt human again. They were still somewhat sore, but they walked without limps or groans. Greg suggested a light lunch since he had something kind of special planned for the evening.

"I'm up for just about anything - except more skiing! I need a couple more days to recover before I go up with you again." She got no argument from Greg.

They grabbed a couple sandwiches and sodas from a local sub shop and decided to just drive a bit and see the area. Greg mentioned a couple of possible routes. "We could head over to Dubois, or we could drive down to Pinedale, or...I don't know, we could check out the road over to Idaho Falls. Do you have a preference?" Samantha didn't care, so Chris decided on Pinedale. "We'll be driving to Idaho Falls several times next week, and I was hoping you still wanted to see Yellowstone tomorrow. If so, we could maybe hit Dubois along with that."

"Gregory, I'm good with any of them." Taking his hand from across table, she added, "I mostly just want to be with you whatever we're doing."

The Audi they rented was comfortable, powerful, and featured both heated seats and all-wheel drive, which were perfect for the day. They headed south down Highway 191, talking and laughing, and soon left the mountains behind as the land began to flatten out. The scenery was beautiful and the snow thinned - and then disappeared altogether - as the altitude dropped and temperatures rose toward the Great Divide Basin. Ninety minutes after they started, they arrived in the small town of Pinedale. There wasn't a lot to do, but it was nice, there were a few stores, and frankly, they just enjoyed the drive together.

They stayed for a while before turning around and making for Jackson. They stopped once, at a small campground on the Hoback River, to step out and walk for a few minutes. Greg tried to show off his rock-skipping talents, but it was a bust because the lack of snowmelt meant the river was much too shallow.

"So what have you planned for tonight?" Samantha called from the kitchen as she grabbed a seltzer from the fridge.

"I made us a reservation at the Snake River Grill back in town. It's for seven-thirty, so we have..." he checked the clock, "...two hours to get ready and get there. Is that enough time?"

"How many stars are we talking about?"

"No idea. It's not a formal, black-tie place, but I'm wearing a coat and slacks. The guy at the massage place recommended it and said he always wears a jacket, but nothing fancier."

Greg volunteered to shower first, so she could take her time, and then got dressed. At a quarter of seven, Samantha came out of the bathroom, looked at Greg, and whistled. "Wow! Don't you look nice!"

He turned - and gasped. She was wearing the outfit he purchased the other day and she looked flawless! The dress and boots looked even better now than when she modeled them in the store. They highlighted the reserved sexiness he just adored about her. She had put her hair up and there were curls framing her face. She did a quick twirl and asked, "You like?"

He took a deep breath. "Sam, 'like' doesn't even begin to describe my feelings. Other than our wedding day, I'm not sure you've ever looked more beautiful."

She clicked her tongue and shook her head, "That's at least the hundredth time you've said that, but thank you."

"And for at least the hundredth time, I'm right." Greg walked over and put his arms around her, leaning in to kiss her, but she pushed him away.

"Oh, no you don't, lover-boy. It took me a while to get my makeup right and you're not messing it up...at least not yet," she added with a wink as she brushed his jacket and adjusted the lapels. "Maybe later...we'll see how nice you are to me during dinner. Let's go, so we're not late."

The drive to the restaurant was difficult for Greg. All he could think about was putting his hands all over his wife. Samantha looked at him and smiled, knowing his torment, and hopeful that he would get just a bit playful with her. His right hand moved to her bare leg above her knee and he slowly moved it up and down her smooth skin. As she dressed, she thought about wearing stockings of some kind, because of the colder evening temperatures. She decided against it, partly because they looked wrong with the boots, but mostly because she wanted as little as possible between Greg's hand and her skin.

Their table was towards the back of the restaurant and was a half-circle, two-person booth, which meant they were able to sit next to each other while still looking at each other. He ordered a glass of wine for each of them and selected the elk medallions for himself, his left hand again finding her knee. The waiter recommended the lamb, and Samantha took his advice, ordering it. As they continued to talk - about skiing, the baby, Yellowstone Park - she could almost feel the anticipation in her husband's fingers. His hand slowly moved up her leg, as if testing her to see where her limits were in a public place. Her pulse was starting to quicken and it was becoming difficult to hold up his conversation and manage the thoughts in her mind. His fingertips were like little firebrands as they reached the hem of her dress, and she caught her breath when they moved just slightly under.

At that point, the waiter arrived with their food, and Greg's hand had another job. They started eating and, true to its reputation, the Snake River Grill's food was simply perfect, from first bite to last. When the waiter asked about dessert, Greg chose key-lime pie and she decided on the coconut sorbet. They shared with each other and both were wonderful. As they ate their desserts, his hand found its way to her body again. His fingers were making little circles on the inside of her leg as they drifted upwards toward her thighs.

Samantha was trying hard to maintain a straight face and her composure, but her body was beginning to betray her. Greg went on talking normally as his fingers worked their magic. He wasn't even touching any forbidden zones, but she was becoming aroused over ice cream. He offered her another bite of his pie and when he put the fork to her lips, his hand touched her bare thigh. Greg froze and looked at her, his eyes wide, and she gave him a 'naughty-little-girl' smile back with a breathy, "Surprise..." as she bit down on his fork.

Greg laughed and whispered in her ear, "Here I am trying to be nice and you're the one making that impossible." He moved his hand down to the inside of her leg, again staying away from her danger zones but moving back and forth, coming ever so close. For several minutes, Samantha tried to keep her wits about her, but it was a losing battle. Anyone looking in their direction would have observed a couple carrying on a typical conversation in a restaurant, but in reality, her husband was driving her mad with desire. Finally, she leaned over and sucked his earlobe into her mouth, running her tongue around it and panting, "Sweetheart, we have to leave - now!"

With his left hand still making her crazy, Greg raised his right hand for the check. Ten minutes later, he opened her car door and she got in. When he sat down and shut the door, he turned to ask her what she thought of the meal, but he didn't even get a word out as Samantha launched herself at him. Her lips were instantly on his, needy and insistent.

Greg pulled back, "So I take it you liked dinner...?"

Samantha pulled his face to her again, locking their lips together and mumbling, "What dinner? Who cares about dinner?"

He pulled away again, loving the state she was in. "And I must have been nice..."

She leaned across the center console, nearly falling into him. "You're such a tease! Quit pulling away from me!" Sucking hard on his lips, she whispered, "You were way more than very nice, Gregory..."

Greg laughed, "All I did was rub your legs a little - you were the minx that left some of her clothes at home."

She started sucking his neck while rubbing his chest. "Speaking of home, hurry and get me there, because there's more of me that you need to play with..."

She practically dragged him through the hotel lobby to the elevators. When the doors closed, she grabbed his neck, pulled him close, and stuck her tongue between his lips as his hands made their way down her torso. "Too bad this elevator ride is short...," she breathed into his mouth.

Greg opened the door to their room, and Samantha mostly shoved him through the entrance before shutting it behind her. "Alright, lover...," she said as she threw herself into his arms again. Their momentum carried him backwards as he half-carried, half-dragged her with him. In the dark, they bumped the back of the sofa, so he set her down on it as she continued to maul his mouth with hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist and threw off her shawl as he ripped his jacket off.

Greg's hands roamed down her back to where her dress had ridden up past her thighs and he grabbed her bare bottom and easily lifted her up. She moaned and lightly bit into his shoulder as his hands began to rub her backside. She yanked his shirt out from his pants and ran her hands over his chest, breathing hard. "Don't stop, Gregory, touch me and don't ever stop!" His hands were beginning to move inward, toward her center. She wanted to speed him along, but she was busy, frantically undoing the buttons that held her dress together. She was approaching the point of no return and her husband's breathing was ragged. He whispered into her neck, "I love you and I'm never going to stop." She let out a little squeal when he ran his tongue behind her ear.

Samantha fumbled with her bra, her self-control gone and her mind lost to any reality other than pleasing her husband. She tried without success to rip it off from the front, before giving up with a groan and moving down to undo her husband's pants. He gasped as she worked the snap free, then the zipper was down and she was tugging at the hem of his boxers. Greg's hands and tongue were driving her to the edge - the tips of his fingers were almost to sacred ground and his mouth was drifting down her neck.

In that instant, Greg and Samantha Stone dangled on the precipice. Perfectly balanced, there was one moment of choice left, one chance to step back from the edge or plunge into in the scalding inferno of pleasure...

...and it was in that moment that Rita Lance returned. She jerked back to reality, realizing how badly she wanted Christopher. Desperately wanted him. They loved each other dearly and had been together for years, but she was just inches from being joined with him completely, not just their souls, but bodies as well, and she was ready - there was nothing she wanted more, and no man she had ever desired more. But there would be no turning back - no way to undo this. What if she regretted afterwards what they were about to do now? What if Chris resented her for those feelings? What if he had regrets of his own? Nothing would be the same again. Their partnership would dissolve, the friendship would fizzle under the weight of distrust, and she would lose the one man she could trust, her best friend - the one man she truly loved. In that moment, he was hers to have...but she couldn't.

"Christopher," she panted, still holding his shorts. His tongue was dancing across her collarbone. "Christopher," she gasped, barely able to control herself, "we have to stop! I'm so sorry, my love...I'm so sorry. Please...we shouldn't do this!" She moved her elbows to his shoulders, trying to catch her breath and halt the runaway train they were riding.

Greg froze and she felt him relax - and she knew her partner had returned. His breath was still coming in ragged gasps, but his hands moved outward, away from danger. Rita released the grip of her legs on his waist and he gently set her down, letting go of her bottom and brushing her dress down to cover her up.

"Rita," he paused, very unsure of himself and trying to calm down, running his hands through his hair, "I'm sorry - I really am! Are you alright?"

She swallowed hard, putting her hands on his chest. "Yeah, I'm fine and I'm sorry, too. I should h..."

"No, Rita, I started it and should have known better. I completely lost my mind." He looked away from her.

She looked at her partner in disbelief and took his arm to bring him round. "You lost your mind? Chris, I've been messed up since we got here. Remember when I tried this outfit...oh...!" She realized there were just four buttons holding her dress together, and she sighed as she quickly fumbled to get herself buttoned back up. Chris looked away to spare her any embarrassment before she continued. "When I first showed you this dress, you gave me a look. From that mome..."

Chris held his hand up for her to stop. "Rita, I told you I was going to be a perfect gentleman, regardless, and I failed. I really messed this up and I'm sorry." He shook his head in frustration.

"I think we both got carri...wa...hey, where are you going?"

"Outside for a walk. I need to think."

"Please don't go - let's talk," she said softly as she touched his arm. "Besides, it's cold out there."

"Trust me, I need the cold right now," he paused for a moment, grabbing the room key off the desk where he had tossed it. "I might be a while - don't wait up for me."

"Christopher, please..." she pleaded, but he was out the door and it quietly closed behind him.

The room was quiet and dark. Rita stood for a couple of minutes looking at the door, her breathing and heart rate returning to normal. Her mind was racing through possibilities, just as it always did when her relationships hit a hard spot. Was it already too late? Had the damage been done? Had their emotions and their passions broken this relationship before any line had even been crossed? She prayed quietly that they were still all right, but shook her head, worried they weren't.

They had a job to do here and they would do it well, but she feared the two of them were broken - cracked, at least. It would probably be a while before balance returned. She wandered to the kitchen and opened the fridge for absolutely no reason at all - she was still stuffed from dinner and her body was still humming from their after-party. She walked back, took off her boots, and crawled into bed, not even bothering to change and determined to wait up for Chris.

She sensed movement in her sleep and opened her eyes. She could see Chris' form as he took his shirt and pants off and quietly laid down. The clock read 12:42am, so he had been gone for hours. She rolled over to him and whispered, "Hey, there...oh, you're freezing! Why were you gone so long? I was starting to wonder."

"I was thinking, just like I told you. And no, you weren't wondering - you were sound asleep."

Chris' response sounded curt, and it hit her like a punch to the gut. When he left, she figured there was trouble, but she wanted so badly to believe there wasn't. Now he was back and there was no denying it - he was angry with her. The descent from the peak of pleasure to the pit of pain was perilous, and she was approaching the valley.

"I was worried, Chris. I just dozed a few minutes ago!" She could feel her emotions running away again and she tried to stop them, but couldn't. The tears were there, and a little sob escaped, despite her best efforts to keep it in. She started to climb out of bed, needing to get away from him, hide, and unload her emotions by herself, but Chris turned and pulled her back with frigid hands.

"Hey..." he whispered softly, "What's wrong, Rita?" When she only cried quietly, he sat up and pulled her to him. "If you think I'm upset or mad at you, you're dead wrong. I made a mistake tonight - well, now it's last night - and you didn't get angry with me, just like you said you wouldn't. I was mad at myself and I needed some time to be angry with me without you telling me I was fine. That's all."

"Rita, you're perfect, you've always been perfect, and you've been perfect out here - if a little extra affectionate," he added with a chuckle. "But that's part of the job - at least, I think it is...isn't it?"

Rita sniffled, "It is part of the job and it isn't. Christopher, I love you. You know I love you, and I desperately love you as my husband on this case - but not just because it's required. When you looked at me in this outfit that first evening, you did something to me. I just...I don't know what happened, but I knew I had to have you. I wanted you, and not just as my husband on this job. I'm sorry, but it's been almost impossible to keep my hands off you. And when you put your hands on me tonight - well, now it's last night," she laughed a little, "I exploded inside. It was...well...an explosion. I went crazy."

"So did I, Sam, so did I. But you have that effect on me as well, and it's been like that since the day I met you."

"Christopher, it's been like that for me as well with you. Everything you do with me is gracious, considerate, and unselfish. A woman would be a fool..." her voice trailed off.

"A fool what, Rita?"

"Well, since you ask, a woman would be a fool not to fall in love with you." There. She had said it - well, she had all but said she was in love with him. She still couldn't be that vulnerable with him. After last night, there was little doubt they could love each other physically. The last three nights with Chris had been magical. He had revved her hormones to hyperactive, so that even now, after they had nearly crossed the line, all she could think about was testing that edge with him again. She had been right when they talked vacations a week ago - this place, with no supervision, was a disaster-in-waiting. And now they were here, with parts to play that put them head-on with the very situations they most needed to avoid.

But more than their obvious physical attraction, Rita was feeling the inexorable pull of the emotional attachment. The markers just kept falling into place - after Ms. Veil's death in her apartment, the whole thing with Brent at the boat, Castellana's attempt on her life, the Garcia woman in the hospital, the two dirty cops - there was always Chris. Steady, loving, unchanging, constant. Always kind, rarely angry with her and never harsh or mean-spirited when he was angry. Chris Lorenzo was perfect. The outfit he picked out, the terrible jokes he told, his smile, the smell of his skin, the feel of his body, and a million other things...everything. He was perfect for her, and it exhilarated and terrified her. The thought of losing him was horrifying almost beyond her ability to think.

Chris laughed, "Well, the world must be full of foolish women." The last several months had been difficult for him. Four separate attempts had been made on his partner's life, and in every case, he had been instrumental in keeping her alive. The other time, everyone actually thought she was dead and, while he put on a brave face, it had nearly crushed him. He had gone back to his apartment and wept like a child. When she came back from Sanibel, he had hugged her and held her, then taken her to the safety of his place, waited until she slept, and wept again into the night.

Rita Lance was a part of him - she had been since the day they met - and she always would be. He loved her as his best friend, but he was starting to believe there was more. He sensed something deeper developing. It was scary, but it was much preferred to the prospect of her being ripped from his life by force. He had already been in that movie with her, and it was terrible.

Chris put his head down on his pillow and pulled her down to him, lost in thought. She put her head on his chest and they were quiet for a while. Then Rita looked at him in the dark, her chin resting on her hand that was on his chest. "So...are we broken, Christopher?"

He stroked her hair for a moment and rubbed her back, then smiled and kissed her forehead. "Absolutely not, but my name isn't Chris. It's Greg Stone, and you are my incredible wife - a woman I love very much and never deserved. I thank God every day that I get to wake up next to you. You are the one that loves me more than I can imagine and, come next week, the mother of our child. Every man should be so blessed..."

Rita smiled at Chris and almost whispered an 'I-love-you' before fading into the background, but she couldn't...not yet. Samantha Stone would have no issue with those words, but until she knew...

Samantha Stone leaned in and kissed her husband. "You're still cold! Why don't you take a hot shower and warm yourself up before coming to bed. You'll feel better." When Greg told her he was fine, she lowered her voice. "How about..." she ran a finger over his chest, "...I go fill the tub with hot water, turn on the jets, and we get you all nice and warm that way." She sucked one of his cold fingers into her mouth, running her tongue around it. "I will sit on your lap in the bubbles and we can talk about - oh, I don't know - whatever pops up."

Greg laughed - his wife was so sexy. "Can we revisit that in the morning? I'm exhausted now." When she nodded, he pulled her to him and kissed her. Samantha got up, unbuttoned her dress, and took it off. Her husband watched, unable to see, but following her shadow movements in the dark. She put her long t-shirt on again and crawled back into bed, pulling the covers over them. She snuggled into her husband and then kissed his chest and fingers a few times. She whispered, "I love you, Gregory Allen." She took his hand, their fingers intertwined, and lay quietly until sleep took her.

Greg lightly rubbed Samantha's back as her breathing softened and then became regular in sleep. He relished the heat of her body, the feel of her skin, and the intoxicating smell of her perfume. Contented sleep came in minutes.


	7. Eruption

Samantha opened her eyes to a world of half-light. Somehow, during the night, the sheets and comforter ended up over her head. She was warm, and she sighed as she detected the smell of her husband. She reached out to touch him and felt nothing. She pulled the covers off and squinted. From the bathroom, he started singing some song - if you could even call it singing. Gregory had a terrible voice. She got out of bed and headed for the shower.

He was in the tub amidst a mountain of suds - he was almost as talented as measuring soap as he was at crooning - rubbing shampoo into his hair. "Good morning, Sam! You're just in time - come on in!"

"I'm going to take a shower this morning, but thanks. Singing sounded great, by the way," she added with more than a touch of sarcasm.

Greg ignored the jab. "Hey, what was all that 'how about we take a bath' stuff last night? Come on..."

"A shower, Gregory, and then I need to call the front desk and order another bottle of soap."

Her husband pouted for a moment and said, "Alright, but at least come over and give me a good-morning kiss."

Samantha walked over, bent down and kissed her husband, running her hands over his chest. He reached up to put his arms around her - then grabbed her. She let out a yelp as he easily lifted her and pulled her headfirst into the tub. A minor tidal wave left part of the floor swimming in water and suds. When she came back up, Greg smiled. "Thanks for changing your mind and taking a bath with me."

Samantha wiped the water from her face. "Gregory Allen! You're very fortunate that I'm in a good mood." She looked at the floor, and added, "This little stunt means you're pulling clean-up duty in here when we're done. And you're doing laundry at some point today because this was the only nightshirt I packed."

Greg turned on the hot water to replace what was now on the floor and squeezed even more soap into the flow. Then she moved over to him, put her arms around his neck and ran her tongue around his ear. She whispered, "Since my shirt is soaked..."

She reached under the water and tugged at her shirt, pulling it up and over her head and causally tossing it behind her, where it landed on the wet floor with a soggy splat. She hugged him again, then lightly ran her hands over his biceps, trying to speak in a sexy voice, "If anything still hurts from skiing, I'd be happy to rub it for you."

Greg smiled. "I've been good since the masseuse worked me over yesterday at the spa."

Samantha pulled away and looked hard at her husband. "Really...the lady at the spa..." She promptly dunked him, holding his head under water for several seconds before letting him back up with a chuckle. "You want to rephrase that answer?"

"She had great hands..." and down he went again, this time for a little longer.

"If you want to play with me in this tub again, I highly suggest you rephrase."

Greg pulled her close through the pile of suds, laughing and holding her head against his shoulder while rubbing her back. "What I meant to say was that I feel fine, and I love you and only you. And let me be honest, I crave your body!"

She started kissing his neck and ears while running her hands over his chest. "Much better. You win the prize..."

An hour later the phone rang and Samantha answered and listened. She put her hand over the receiver and whispered, "Wow...Richard Jenkins from Maine Medical is here in Jackson." Looking at her husband, she replied to the phone, "Yeah, I think we're free for a late breakfast..." She looked at Greg with a questioning look and he nodded. "Greg says yeah, we are free. You name the place and we'll be there." She hesitated before responding. "That sounds great, ten-thirty. See you then," and hung up.

Greg thought for a moment before asking, "Would I rather be free for a late breakfast, or late for a free breakfast? Hmmm..."

Samantha rolled her eyes. "I would rather my husband just not talk sometimes."

* * *

The Stones were sitting at a table in the corner of the restaurant where Richard, who was in charge of Patient Services and was effectively their boss, joined them. As Captain Hudson sat down, Rita laughed to herself. He actually looked like an administrator, even more than she and Chris looked like doctors.

"Ok, you two, first off, how are things going?"

They gave Hudson a high-level rundown of their activities, avoiding the unnecessary details. Rita summarized it by saying, "We have tried to look like any other couple out here vacationing, and we've not been shy to make mention of the adoption."

"Good. You're sticking to your cover all the time, right?"

When they nodded, he smiled, "Good again. It's possible that our _Hearts of Love_ friends have made quiet inquiries about you and know where you're staying. They may be checking up on you - phone logs, tails, you know the drill."

"We were very careful when we came to meet you - making sure no one was following us." Chris continued, "But yeah, we've been working under the assumption that we are being watched or monitored at all times." He looked at Rita, who nodded and then looked down at the table to hide her smile.

"Excellent plan."

When the waitress brought their plates, Jenkins was discussing hospital policy on overtime hours with first-year residents.

When she left, he leaned back in. "So here's the deal. In the last two days, the FBI has contracted a bad case of 'ants-in-the-pants.' They're getting jumpy because two more phony adoption cases have surfaced, one in Missouri and another in Oklahoma. The one in Missouri has legs - the family involved includes a young, up-and-coming state Senator. In January, he announced he was running for the US Senate this fall, and he'll have a tough race against the incumbent."

The Captain took a swig of his coffee. "He and his wife adopted two months ago and have started yelling - so far, in private - about resolving this case. We've been able to hold a lid on him so far, but he's a politician and this story is probably worth ten sympathy points to him in the polls. If he blows the lid off, _Hearts of Love_ will disappear underground and it will be a year before we can track them down and set up another sting."

As he took a deep breath, Rita chimed in. "So, the FBI wants this buttoned up before it gets screwed up."

"Yes. They are itching to send in the posse now, but I keep telling them we're just a few days from busting this, so..." he sighed, "...what is your confidence level right now?"

Chris spoke up, a little frustrated. "Cap, we've done exactly what we were expected to do - build a cover as a married couple, but we haven't even met with them yet - not until tomorrow morning..."

"Nine-thirty AM sharp, Lorenzo."

"Right, nine-thirty. So for us to say anything now about 'confidence' is almost impossible. We know nothing about the process - how it works, how long it takes once initial backgrounds are done - nothing. We are somewhat flying blind, and we're going to have to let the _Hearts of Love_ people drive this. I do not want to push them to move more quickly. They will probably smell a rat, and I have zero interest in wearing a necklace of AK-47 slugs. So I vote we play it cool. Unless the FBI wants to go running in like John Wayne and risk the whole enterprise, they have to be cool, too."

Rita nodded in agreement. "Exactly. I would like to think we can set everything up for the FBI by week's end, but until we know more...yeah, they should wait on the sidelines until we send out the signal."

The Captain looked at them, thinking things over. "You both know I'm with you on this. I think the pace is good," he paused, "but most of all, I want you both safe, and truthfully, the Feds want that as well. But they want to close this, so they're pushing a little."

"I'll tell them you're on-schedule, with a tentative target of week's end - and an order to let you do your jobs. If you need me, I'm in the Wort Hotel downtown - Dr. Richard Jenkins. It's a pretty nice place, actually. I would like daily updates starting tomorrow, but I won't demand it, because I don't know what you're going to face. Keep me in the loop as necessary, and you already know this, but don't call me from your hotel phone. When you feel everything is set up, we will meet with the guys with guns and walk through the take-down. Watch your backs," he paused for a moment before smiling, "and I hope your baby is healthy and beautiful. You'll make good parents."

* * *

Yellowstone. Few words in the English language are as recognizable as that one, and few words can conjure up the mental imagery that 'Yellowstone' can. A person might try to describe the place, but the English language simply isn't rich enough to adequately do so. The best way to learn about it is just to see it. Sure, America's first National Park is little more than a giant volcanic caldera, two-plus million acres of trees and animals and soil and rock that are layered over a massive reservoir of magma. But to call it an 'old volcano' is to call the Grand Canyon 'a big hole' or Carlsbad Caverns 'a cave with some bats'.

The beauty is staggering. The grandeur is indescribable. Every mile through the park can cause breathing problems, and they have little to do with the altitude. Even in late winter, under a covering of snow and with some of the roads still closed, there is plenty of beauty, as Greg and Samantha discovered in their trip through the park. He was glad for the all-wheel-drive power of the car, because many of the roads, while plowed, still had a coating of snow and ice, the remnants of Thursday's snowfall.

They made their way to Old Faithful and watched an eruption before stopping at one of the restaurants there, just having dessert and cocoa. While they sat, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, creating a glittering, blinding white landscape that caused Greg to repeat his promise to Sam that one day they would live here. They visited briefly with some tourists at the next table who said the weather called for snow to move in during the evening, and Greg made the wise decision - based on his lack of winter driving skills - to start making their way back to the hotel.

Flurries were actually starting to fall as they walked back to their car. The flakes got progressively heavier as they headed south toward the park entrance and, by the time they reached Teton Village, it was snowing steadily. They ran through the entrance of the hotel, stopping to stomp the snow off their shoes and brush their shoulders and heads before heading up.

"Wow! That snow kind of came out of nowhere. You think we'll have trouble getting to the adoption agency tomorrow? Will the roads be closed?"

Greg thought for a minute before answering. "There's more than one way to Idaho Falls. For us, there are two basic options - the high road over Teton Pass or the lower road. The lower road should be clear, but is longer by fifteen or twenty minutes. Either way is roughly two hours. You hungry?"

"Yeah, a little. But..." Samantha hesitated, afraid he might be upset, "...would you mind if we just stayed in tonight? Maybe room service or the hotel restaurant?"

"Absolutely. Are you alright?"

Samantha shook her head. "I think I'm just tired and a touch queasy. We've been going full-on the last three days and it might be catching up to me. You're keeping me up too late," she added with a smile.

In the end, the Stones went out for dinner, but they stayed in Teton Village, finding a good Thai place just a short walk from the hotel. Samantha ordered the traditional Pad Thai, but only picked at it, and Greg helped her finish it, beginning to wonder if she was ill. When they left the restaurant, it was cold and dark, but the snow had mostly stopped and their feet crunched through what looked to be about four inches of fresh powder. They entered the lobby of their hotel and he helped her out of her coat.

"Sam, it's 7:30. What would you like? A drink? A swim? A soak? I'd like to have a dessert of some kind - you know how I am."

"You go ahead. I think I will go up to the room. I'll see you in a bit." She kissed his cheek and gave him a little squeeze on his backside. Greg watched her go, convinced she wasn't feeling well and having already made the decision to simply get his dessert from the hotel restaurant and go to the room as well. The Apple Profiterole he ordered looked splendid and he hoped Sam would at least try a bite.

Samantha was already lying down when he walked through the door. He felt her forehead and she was a little warm, but didn't seem feverish. He sat down on the bed next to her. "Would you like to try this? It's delicious!"

She sat up, propped herself against the headboard, and shook her head. "It looks really good, but I can't eat it. I'm feeling a little sick to my stomach. Would you mind bringing me a cold washcloth?"

He brought one to her and she put it on her forehead with a sigh. "That feels so good. Thanks."

"Can I rub your shoulders or neck or..."

"I think I just want to rest."

"Crackers? 7-Up?"

She made a face. "Nothing sounds even remotely good right now."

Fifteen minutes later, Greg was done with his dessert and she asked for another cold cloth. He sat next to her on the bed, hoping not to bother her and wanting to be close by if she needed him. She drifted off to sleep and he checked the time - 8:15. He watched a bit of TV, but having the volume almost completely muted made it a pointless endeavor, so he shut if off along with the lights, got out of his clothes, and crawled into bed. He didn't realize how tired he was, but fell asleep almost as quickly as his wife had.

Three hours later, Samantha Stone stirred and then opened her eyes, immediately assaulted with waves of nausea. She was sweating profusely and an awful thought entered her mind - food poisoning. She lay in agony for a while, praying for death and moving around, trying to find a position that eased the pain in her guts while not waking her husband. But that feeling of impending doom was growing, and she knew it was time to make a break for the bathroom. She got up and quietly raced through the bedroom, just making it across the bathroom threshold before her guts lurched and she retched. She put her hands to her mouth in a futile attempt to hold back the contents of her stomach, but her body was operating on instinct and the stool was too far away. She threw up on the floor.

Greg came up behind her a few moments later. Her quick exit from the bed had caused him to wake up. "Are you alri..." She turned around with a helpless look, her hands dripping with goo that was also hanging from her chin and splattered on the clothes she was still wearing. He thought she looked sickly green.

"Oh Samantha Lynn, you look awful! Let me help..."

Samantha tried to speak, but her eyes bulged and her stomach convulsed again. Greg heard the gurgling sound and grabbed her hair as she turned away and threw up a second time, the force of her expulsion causing her to drop to her knees. She gagged and heaved several more times until there was nothing left in her stomach.

On her hands and knees, Samantha gasped, her body limp and exhausted by its exertions. Greg knelt behind her, rubbing her back and whispering, trying to comfort her.

"Alright Sam, let's get you cleaned up. Don't worry about the floor - I'll take care of it." He helped her to the shower and turned on the water for her. Leaving her to undress and rinse off, he called the front desk, explained the situation, and asked for some cleaning supplies.

Samantha took a little extra time in the shower, and Greg couldn't fault her for it. She actually suffered dry heaves twice more under the spray, but then her body started to relax. The nausea was easing up - her body had expunged what was poisoning her and recovery had already begun.

Greg got a mop and bucket from the concierge, along with some soap, disinfectant, and spray. He cleaned up the floor - working hard not to throw up himself - scrubbing the tiles and trying to get everything back to normal before she was done showering. He had just finished drying the floor when she walked up behind him.

Samantha actually felt human again, having showered, rinsed her mouth, brushed her teeth, and gargled some mouthwash. She had thrown on a bathrobe and her wet hair was clinging to her cheeks and neck. She was still pale, but the worst was past.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that," she said, her voice still a bit shaky, "and then have to clean everything up. I'm really embarrassed - that must have been awful. Thank you so much."

"Yeah, it wasn't so nice, but I've seen a lot worse," he said with as much of a smile as he could muster. "I'm a doctor that works with kids, remember?" He hugged her carefully, not wanting to squeeze too hard and risk another eruption, then checked her over. "You still look pretty pale, but at least there's nothing in your hair anymore."

"I'm feeling a little better. I don't think it was food poisoning, or I'd still be heaving - and it would be coming out both ends of me. I know that sounds awful. I'm sorry," she caught him making a face at her description. "There must have been something spoiled in what I ate in the park. If that's the case, I'm really glad you didn't have the crème brulee."

"No kidding! Look, you emptied your stomach, so you might be a little dehydrated. There are some saltine crackers in the welcome basket on the counter and I'll run down to the machine and get you some 7-Up. Hopefully that will help settle your stomach."

He looked at the clock on the way out - 11:38pm. She needed to get some rest before tomorrow - the first of several big days. If it was truly just the dessert and nothing more serious, she still had time to get back to sleep and rest for tomorrow.

He purchased two cans of soda - there was no 7-Up but some Sprite would do - and when he got back to the room, his wife was still in her bathrobe, but was propped up in bed, nibbling at the crackers and chewing slowly. Twenty minutes later, she had downed three crackers and half a can of soda with no ill effects.

Greg cleaned himself up a bit, washing his hands and face with soap to get rid of the vomit he kept imagining he smelled, and changing his tank and shorts. He laid back down, pushing her still-wet hair away from her face and kissing her forehead. "Well...?"

"I'm getting better. Thank you again for cleaning up after me - that was terrible." She smiled and took another small bite, then put the cracker between her lips and moved to him, trying to touch the cracker to his lips.

Greg smiled and closed in, taking the offering...and taking a kiss as a bonus. He looked at her green eyes and gave her a sly smile. "I love you, Samantha Stone, even when you're blowing chow on our bathroom floor."

"Mmm...you're such a romantic. It's midnight and we have to be up early in the morning." She kissed him one last time before lying down and rolling to her left side. Greg pulled the covers over his wife and scooted to her, putting his arm around her and snaking his hand inside her bathrobe. She whispered, "Gently, Gregory, I still ache..." as he put his hand on her belly, applying just enough pressure to maintain contact with her smooth skin.

Chris Lorenzo lay next to his partner, his hand on her belly. A part of him really wanted that hand to roam - the robe was all she had on - and after all, they were married, if only for this case. But he had really blown it the night before and Rita had extended him grace. That probably would not happen a second time. She would push him away and maybe get angry with him and that would be awkward. It was all very confusing. Separating make-believe from real life was sometimes incredibly complicated. They were play-acting for the sake of whatever eyes and ears were watching, but it also seemed so perfectly natural. There was no forced intimacy, no struggle to maintain conversation, no awkward gestures or hesitation. It felt completely real. It was real.

Chris caught himself in mid-thought. Real? Was Rita somehow communicating through this job that she truly loved him without realizing it? Was he unconsciously doing the same thing? Or was it not subconscious at all? Maybe they were truly in love with each other and what they thought was acting was, in reality, the natural outflow of their emotions and feelings. Chris squeezed his eyes - it was too early in the morning to analyze things this deeply. For now, he had promised to be a gentleman and he needed to stick with it. They needed to go into tomorrow with no clouds or conflicts hanging over them. So with all his might, he resisted his urges because she was precious to him. He smiled, content for the moment to be next to her, his hand on her skin, her beautiful, warm body snuggled against him, the wonderful, freshly-washed scent of her wafting over them. Now was the time for sleep.

Rita felt her heart beginning to beat faster. Chris' hand was right there and she wanted him to explore. But he said he wanted to behave himself, and if she encouraged him, she would be responsible for him breaking his promise. She put the brakes on last night and he had stopped immediately, but tonight was different. She had been sick and still wasn't back to normal, so touching would be all she could handle. There was nothing wrong with that, right? Just a few caresses for a nightcap. A little pleasure here and there? Maybe she would reciprocate. They had done a lot more than that in the other life that was this undercover business. They were experts at play-acting a couple - maybe a little too good.

Rita wondered what Chris was thinking. Was he even awake? She wanted to talk to him; she needed to talk to him. As a professional, she knew it was her duty to tell him she was failing. This false life as Samantha Stone was beginning to melt and blend with reality. She sounded all business-like when this case was presented to them, but the time out here - in his presence, in his arms, in his bed - had made the line of separation fuzzy to the point of being almost invisible. Last night, she almost told Chris she was madly in love with him, right after nearly going over the line physically...and tonight? He cleaned her puke off the floor. What guy would ever...? She was falling hard and still accelerating.

But if she told Chris about her feelings, he might back off. He would probably pull away from her. The case was paramount and he might go so far as to call Captain Hudson, requesting an extraction. She couldn't live with the humiliation of failure, and she wouldn't be able to look Chris in the eye, even as a partner. They would separate and she would lose him - in every way. Rita squeezed her eyes - she absolutely hated the way her mind ran to extreme conclusions with things that were complicated.

Chris stirred behind her in his sleep and his right hand moved across her belly. She held her breath, anticipating where it would stop. She tried willing it to move in a particular direction, but it landed and rested on the ridge of her scar. He was ever the gentleman with her. It was fading nicely and would soon be an almost-invisible ridge of tissue, but his touch took her mind back to that terrible evening. She remembered opening her eyes. The horrific pain she had initially felt was nearly gone - it was fading away almost as quickly as her life. Even her vision was limited, completely black on the edges and fuzzy-gray everywhere except for the object of her attention. There he was, crying as he pressed on her abdomen to keep her from bleeding to death, telling God to switch their places. Almost everything she knew about what happened after the stabbing came from her partner's descriptions, but that was the one image she could remember with clarity like crystal. No man loved her like Christopher Lorenzo did...or could...or would...

Samantha Stone adored her husband, and she smiled in the dark as she closed her eyes.


	8. Separation

The Stones quietly entered the lobby of _Hearts of Love Adoption_ agency just before nine in the morning. They were early and they were nervous. The Monday-morning, five-thirty alarm had been a rude, but necessary, awakening. Not only did they have to get ready, but the two-hour drive to Idaho Falls was completely unfamiliar to them. They had decided to skip the shorter route - the one up and over Teton Pass - because Gregory was unsure of the road conditions after the snow and didn't want to take any chances, particularly in the dark. That meant their route would be a bit longer anyways, so at 6:45am they hit the road. Samantha still wasn't completely back to normal, but a good night's sleep, a warm shower this morning, and a couple more crackers had made a world of difference.

The young lady at the front desk glanced up at them from her work, then did a double-take and looked them over again with a puzzled expression that vanished a moment later. She quickly got up and walked around to greet them. "Good morning! Welcome to _Hearts of Love_. How can I help you?"

Samantha smiled. "Greg and Samantha Stone. We're actually a little early."

"Oh yes, you two are about to have a baby. Congratulations! My name is Heidi Pressley, can I..."

Greg interrupted, "Are you...any relation...?"

She laughed and said, "You'd be surprised how many times I get that. I wish I was related," then she lowered her voice to a whisper, "I bet the money would be a lot better!" Resuming her normal voice, she added, "Sadly, the extra 's' in my last name kept me out of the will. Anyhow, what can I get you to drink?"

The couple sat in the lobby with bottles of water and Samantha nibbled another cracker. They shared a little small talk with Heidi, talking about Maine, where they were staying in Jackson, and some of their favorite vacation spots. Greg noticed that she eyed them rather curiously on a couple of occasions, but she was very kind and conversational as they waited.

When their caseworker came out to get them, Samantha told Heidi she had done a wonderful job keeping them company. Ms. Pressley just chuckled and said, "Thank you very much," using a very poor Elvis-style impersonation.

The man in charge of their adoption was William Stafford. After a bit of introduction, he got right to it. "Our three-day process might be a little different than others, but we think it works really well. Day one, that's today, involves an interview with me and going through the home study. I have that…" he dragged out the last word as he looked through the folder, before pulling out some papers, "...right here...let's see...ok, yeah, you're from Portland so you had a member of the Maine CFS do the study and send the results and photos to us. Perfect! We will go through this, your marriage history, financials - it's mostly boilerplate stuff. That is all for today. You'll be here less than four hours."

"Tomorrow will be more fun. You each have a one-on-one interview with an adoption counselor that lasts about ninety minutes. She's pretty in-depth and she gives the final go-ahead for the adoption." Greg and Samantha looked at each other, but Bill brushed off their worry. "To date, she's never had to issue a rejection, so there's no reason to think you'll be the first. Then you get to spend a few hours with the baby - holding him, feeding him, letting him sleep, changing diapers - just being parents a little bit. The counselor supervises that - to keep an eye on our children and to answer any questions you have."

"Assuming all green lights, Wednesday, you'll come back in the morning, fill out the final paperwork, hand us a check, and sign the adoption forms. If we start at nine, you will officially be parents before noon. I always say this as a reminder; make sure you have your infant seat in the car when you arrive Wednesday. The baby is not allowed to leave the building if you don't. Any questions before we get started?"

Samantha wondered if she could see their baby today, even if they couldn't yet hold him. Bill laughed. "Every mother asks us that, and the answer is always yes. We'll take you back to the nursery before you're done today."

The interview went well until Mr. Stafford delved into their marriage history. "It lists that you were married in September of 1991, but were briefly separated in early 1992. I'd like you to provide some detail."

Samantha looked down and spoke. "It wasn't an official separation, but yeah, that happened in April, right after we found out I couldn't have children."

 _Just eight months after they were married, two different doctors told the Stones that it was impossible for Samantha to conceive. She left the fertility clinic that final day crushed by the news, and overwhelmed with inadequacy. When Greg told her things would be fine as they got into their car, she glared at him and told him he was insensitive and didn't understand her. He tried to talk to her as they drove home, but it only made things worse. By the time they reached their driveway, they were screaming at each other. Greg drove straight into the garage so the neighbors wouldn't see or hear them._

 _They went to opposite ends of their home to cool off, but Samantha was clearly far from normal. She made dinner, but refused to eat with her husband, and slept in a different room that night. Greg had no inkling that it would be almost four months before she returned to his bed. The next morning, he went to work without his wife for the first time since they arrived in Portland - he reported her sick. When he returned home, Samantha was still in the spare bedroom. She rarely consumed alcohol, but she had spent the day working through most of a bottle of Jack. She was very drunk and reeked of alcohol. He looked at her - knowing there was no way to reason with her in that condition - and left the room. Samantha then started screaming at him for abandoning her. He simply couldn't win right now._

 _And so began the rapid disintegration of their marriage. Samantha's guilt was eating her alive. She blamed herself for her inability to get pregnant. She loved Gregory, but every time she saw his face, she saw behind him faces of the children she would never give him. They both wanted a family - their plan was for her to work until the second child came, then she would take on the job she really wanted - full-time motherhood. The picket fence. Her husband coming home each evening to play with their children. Baseball or soccer. Band concerts. Weekends at the beach. Vacations out West or down South. Watching the kids get off the bus. Taking pictures on the stairs before prom. The images were there and now they were shattered, and she was shattered with them. Her husband worked with children - loved them - and because of her, he wouldn't have any of his own._

 _Samantha knew about Lisa Powers, the busty night-shift manager at the hospital that had been after Gregory since they joined the staff at Maine Medical. She was a tramp, but she was gorgeous with a body made for sin, and she had planted a target on Mr. Stone. Gregory never talked about Lisa and only talked to her when it was necessary, but Samantha could see how Lisa was around him - the not-so-subtle touch of her hand on his arm, putting her arm lightly around his waist when asking a question, rubbing his shoulders, even brushing her ample chest across his arms. Her co-workers would whisper about how Lisa bragged that she could just say the word, and Greg would be hers. Sam passed by the cafeteria door one morning and overheard Lisa talking to another nurse. She paused out of sight long enough to hear Lisa speculating on the size of Gregory's private parts, and what she would do to confirm her guess. Samantha said nothing and just walked away, disgusted by the woman's total disregard for their marriage, and terrified of what she might try. She knew her husband loved her, but he was a man, and men didn't always think clearly._

 _Thus far, Greg had ignored Lisa's advances, but would he now? Samantha cared little anymore if he did or not. He could do what he wanted. He was perfect and she was broken beyond repair. It was only a matter of time until Lisa's charms - or some other woman's charms - won the day. He would eventually cast her aside, a broken toy thrown in the bin and replaced with something fully functional._

 _Samantha returned to work three days later, having decided a perpetual hangover promised very limited upside. But she wouldn't eat or sleep with Gregory and she wouldn't go to work with him. For his part, Greg tried everything to show her he loved her - flowers, gentleness, kindness, small gifts, suggesting a short vacation with her - whatever he could bring to mind. Nothing worked, and his attempts only served to highlight her own failures, fueling her bitterness and resentment. She wanted Gregory to hate her and when he didn't, her anger just got worse. She hated herself, she was beginning to hate her husband, she hated herself for hating her husband - she hated everything and it was swallowing her up. She was in a relational death spiral._

Bill asked, "Talk a little bit about the split." Greg took a deep breath. He knew this would hurt Sam all over again, despite the fact that they had completely reconciled.

"I finally packed a few bags and left," Samantha said quietly. "I was an emotional wreck at the time, so I went to stay with a woman I work with at the hospital and her husband."

 _Three weeks later, Gregory came home and she was standing inside the door with three bags. Samantha told him she couldn't live with the failure and his condemnation any longer and was leaving. He was stunned. "I need some time to think. I'm pretty sure you hate me now, but you just haven't figured out how to tell me." When he tried to protest and tell her he loved her, she slapped his face - hard - and yelled at him. "Why can't you ever let me finish? Shut your mouth and let me finish! Mary is coming to get me and I'm staying with them - for the time being. I'll still see you at the hospital, but don't talk to me and don't talk about me - just leave me alone for now and let me think."_

 _After nearly a month of futility, stress, and wild emotional swings in the home, Gregory was actually a bit relieved. When Mary arrived - Mary Williston was one of their better friends at the hospital - Samantha walked past her husband and out to the car without looking back. Mary came up to get the last bag, but paused on the way out. She could see the red hand print on the left side of his face. "I'm so sorry for this, Gregory. Please don't be angry with us. I want you to know I'm on your side - Samantha isn't herself and she's making a big mistake. When she told me she was moving out, Chuck and I volunteered to take her in because, in the wrong company, she's in a position to make much bigger mistakes that she - and the two of you - can't fix. We want to prevent that and this way, you'll know she's safe. Be patient with her - I've got some ideas my husband and I will try. And watch out for Powers at work. She knows you and Samantha are struggling and she told a couple of nurses she'll be your lover inside of two weeks. She's gunning for you."_

 _Greg responded immediately. "My wife has nothing to worry about where Lisa Powers is concerned."_

Bill looked at the two of them. "Samantha, how long were you away from your husband and what caused things to turn around?"

"I was gone ten...no, eleven weeks. Things improved because the time apart allowed us - mostly me - to think through things and get my head screwed on properly again. And I got some good advice from family and from Mary, the lady I stayed with."

Greg spoke up. "And eventually we got connected with an excellent counselor that really understood our situation. She could sympathize with us and offer a lot of great advice."

 _Things came to a head when Samantha visited her parents six weeks after she moved out of her home. Greg had mostly honored her request to stay away, sending only a few brief letters to her, telling her he still loved her and always would, regardless of whether they had children. But Samantha couldn't face him any longer and had very quietly gone to a lawyer and drawn up papers for a legal separation, the first step to divorce. Her dad called Greg on occasion and, to this point, Greg had said nothing about their marital strife, much less the fact that Sam was living elsewhere, wanting to protect her honor and concerned her parents would be angry with him._

 _So when Samantha arrived at her parents' place and, two days later, told them what had happened with Greg, she was shocked at their response. Instead of sympathy and compassion, they were furious with her. Sam's mother couldn't believe they had raised a daughter that would be so self-centered and selfish as to walk away from a man that loved her because of hard news. "Honey, you've seen your dad and I argue on many occasions. We've had dreams shattered and hopes unfulfilled throughout our married life, and when did I ever pack up my bags and walk out on him or you girls?"_

 _When Samantha defended her actions, her father stepped in. "Is Greg sleeping around on you?" She shook her head. "Is he abusing you in any way - any way at all?" Again, she shook her head. "Then you have no defense, Samantha! Life threw you a curve and you simply chose to run away rather than work through it with a man you pledged your life to. I don't know where you learned that, but it wasn't under this roof!"_

 _And then he pointed his finger at her and gave her an ultimatum. "Young lady, you go to counseling with Gregory and at least try to work things out, or you can forget about being welcome in our home. We love you and we always will, but as your father, I will not tolerate this behavior from you! I know you are an adult who is free to make her own decisions, but so am I. You're on a course to destroy two lives and that's not acceptable." He paused, his face red with anger. "And another thing...I'm not really interested in having you in our home while you're tearing your own apart. You can stay tonight, but tomorrow morning after breakfast, I want you to leave. Your visit with us is over! Go where you will, but I highly suggest you return to Portland and your husband!"_

 _Stan turned and walked out of the room, leaving his daughter devastated and crying like a baby. It had been years since dad had been so angry and harsh with her. She turned and hugged her mother, who returned her embrace and said, "You know I love you, sweetheart, and so does your father, more than you could ever know. But he has spoken and I agree with him. Go home, get your act together, and try to fix this!"_

 _She left her parents' home and returned to the Williston's, who had been pushing her all along to visit a marriage counselor. After several more conversations with Mary and a lot of soul-searching, Samantha put her wedding ring on again and spoke to her husband over the phone for the first time in more than two months. He was shocked to hear her voice and began crying, which caused Sam to break down as well. They spoke for only a few minutes and it was awkward, but it was a start. That phone call led to another two days later, then another the following day._

 _Samantha was afraid to ask her husband about counseling, fearing a refusal, but she did and Greg readily accepted. Mary had given her the name of good marriage counselor in Portland and, a week later, they had their first session. To their surprise, the counselor was also unable to have children, and so she gave the Stones a lot of great advice, including the idea of adopting. The counselor helped both of them work through their hurts and anger, to the point where they could talk to each other at work and on the phone._

 _Four weeks after their sessions started, Greg was sitting in the living room when the phone rang. He answered and it was Mary. "Hi Greg. Um...your wife has something to ask you..." After a pause, Samantha's voice was on the other end, sounding timid and terrified. "Gregory, I want to come home. Will you let me come home?" Then all he heard were sobs. Mary got back on the line and said, "I don't know if you got that, but Samantha wants to come home and hopes you're alright with it." Gregory could only cry and Mrs. Williston had his answer. She added, "Listen, she's carrying a lot of guilt for what has happened - go easy on her and be patient. I think the worst is over."_

Bill smiled, "Just one more question about this, and I need you to both be honest with me. When you got back together, how did things go?"

Greg looked at his wife. "I think we initially walked on eggshells around each other, but Sam was great. She was very patient, very honest about her feelings, and very willing to work with me to rebuild trust and our relationship."

Samantha's eyes were moistening with the memories and she added, "Gregory's being modest. I left a wreck and, if I'm being honest, I was terrible to him - just...selfish and mean and nasty and...terrible. But he opened the door, let me take things at my pace, and he just loved me."

 _Greg Stone did his best to welcome her back, but she was very tentative at first. She moved back into the spare bedroom - this time with no alcohol - and worked to reintegrate into his life. There were little milestones along the way - riding to work together again, talking with each other in the evenings, going out on a date, moving back into his bedroom and sleeping in the same bed. Slowly, life returned to normal._

 _He never talked about her leaving unless she brought it up to discuss it. He never held it over her to gain advantage - the counselor said that would be awful for both of them. There was one last step, however, Samantha knew she had to take - one final confession before she could be free again. Mary told her she needed to and her mother said it would really help, because Greg still had no idea about the separation papers. She needed to come completely clean with him._

 _One evening after dinner, she knew it was time and she retrieved the manila envelope from the bottom of her dresser drawer. With her stomach in knots and her hands shaking badly, she handed it to Greg and simply said, "You need to see this, and I'm so sorry."_

 _Greg tapped it in his hand a couple of times before looking at his wife and asking one question. "After I look at this, what are you going to do?"_

 _Poor Samantha was broken and could barely speak. "I'm going to pray that you forgive me, and I'm going to take it out to the fire pit and burn it."_

 _Greg looked at the envelope and then smiled. "I might know what this is, and I don't need to see it. I forgive you. But if a fire is what you want, I'll go with you - to watch with you...and to make sure you don't burn the place down."_

 _She wept as the flames grew and turned the envelope black, consuming the culmination of the poor decisions she had made the last several months and, in a way, re-igniting her love for her husband. For Greg, with his arm around her shoulder, it felt like a new beginning. When no more than a few ashes remained, they walked hand-in-hand back to their home._

 _One month later, they flew both sets of parents into Portland. In the small chapel of a local church, Greg and Samantha Stone stood in front of a minister and renewed their wedding vows to each other with their parents - and the Willistons - as witnesses. Other than the minister, there wasn't a dry eye in the place. Greg and Samantha Stone were husband and wife again._

Bill smiled, "And now? How would you characterize things in your home?"

"I'll answer this," Samantha paused to wipe her eyes with a Kleenex. "I adore my husband. I will love him until the day I die - and beyond that, if it's allowed. I know Greg loves me. No woman could be happier than I am. I want my husband to be a father as much as I want to be a mother. He'll be a very good one."

Greg added, "I adore her husband, too." They shared a good laugh before he continued. "That was a really hard time. I don't want anyone else to go through it, and I don't want to ever go through it again. But I learned an awful lot from the experience - mostly about how to respond to the harsh realities of life, how to cope, and how to help my wife cope. I know Sam learned a lot, too. We're almost two years out from all that and we're committed to each other. When the opportunity to adopt this baby came along, we believed we were ready to be parents. We still believe it."

The rest of the interview process went without a hitch. The home study done by the Maine representative was incredibly detailed. "The woman - Renee was her name if I recall - met with Greg and I three separate times, she walked the house and property, looked at the baby's room..."

Bill chimed in, "Yeah, the pictures are here and it's beautiful..."

"So yeah, we really liked her, too. We're doctors, so we get the whole 'being clinical' when doing your work - and she was that - but she was very pleasant and personable."

Before they left, Bill gave them a quick tour of the small facility and then they walked to the nursery. A nurse was in the room and Samantha's heart melted - there were four little babies, each wrapped in blankets and wearing a tiny stocking cap. Three blue caps and a lone pink, worn by a face that suddenly contorted as she started to cry.

Bill smiled, "Well, it looks like our little diva needs fed or a diaper changed."

Greg looked at Bill. "So which of the boys..."

"He's the boyfriend, so we parked him right next to the little girl."

Greg smiled and put his arm around his wife, "You think he'll do?"

Samantha said nothing for a minute, just staring at the little bundle in the bassinet and wiping tears from her eyes. She leaned against her husband and put her hand on his chest. "He's just beautiful. The most precious little thing." She looked through the glass again and said quietly, "Hello, Daniel James Stone. Welcome to our world."

Bill smiled. "Daniel James - I like the name. You'll find out all the detail tomorrow, but he's five weeks old and he was born in South Korea - his mother was just fourteen and her parents would not let her even try to raise him. He's a beautiful little boy."

As they walked out, they stopped at Heidi's desk to thank her. She put down the newspaper she was looking at and shook their hands. "Congratulations again, Mr. and Mrs. Stone. I bet I will see you tomorrow. Drive safely."

"We'll be here - 9:30 again."

The Stones headed back to Jackson and before they got to their hotel, Greg stopped to fill the car's tank. Samantha went ahead and called the hospital administrator from the pay phone to say hello, but he wanted to get together for a late lunch, if the two of them had an hour to spare from the slopes and the adoption.

"You on a diet, Rita?" Captain Hudson couldn't help but notice that she was just picking at her food and lost in thought. Rather than speaking over the phone, he had discovered a bar in downtown Jackson that had excellent food. Because it was just two-thirty, there were only two other people sitting in the place, and they were at the bar deep into conversation and stout mugs of beer.

"It's been a rough eighteen hours, Captain," she answered, not showing a lot of emotion.

He gave them a sidelong glance with his eyes narrowed. "Are you guys alright? Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, Rita...well, she got pretty sick last night. We stopped at a place in Yellowstone and what she ate must have been spoiled."

Rita looked up, "Yeah, and Chris had to clean it up, bless his heart." She squeezed his leg under the table. "Anyways, so I think things went well today. The pictures of the house in Maine, the nursery, and the home study were perfect. The people that did all the background work should be commended. They've done a fantastic job."

Hudson smiled. "Yes, they have. But you're the ones putting yourselves in the line of fire, so tell me more."

"They have four babies in there right now, Cap! Four beautiful little babies. I looked at them and I was just furious, knowing somewhere there are four mothers whose lives have been destroyed by their loss. I cried for that beautiful little baby we are adopting, but even more for his mom. Bill Stafford told us she was fourteen - nice cover story, but probably a lie."

Chris sketched a quick layout of the interior of the building on a couple of napkins - as much as they had seen - and began to point. "Front door, front desk and waiting area here. Just the receptionist is there. Her name is Heidi Pressley..." Captain Hudson looked up and Chris added, "No relation. Hallway here with rooms on either side. The doors are not staggered, so it will be difficult to clear one without being exposed to the other.

"We'll need two teams, Left and Right, to move down the hallway. Continue..."

Chris pointed. "I counted six doors in the hall. The last door on the right is the nursery, but it has three big windows so you can see that easily. There is also a door at the end of the hall - no idea who or what is there. It might be a back exit, but..." he shrugged.

"Souls?"

Rita spoke up. "The receptionist - female. The nurse - female. The adoption counselor, who we didn't see today but is female. Our case worker - male. I saw three others, all men, between the offices. So at least seven. We will count again tomorrow and report any new faces. I assume that six of those are capable of shooting back and the receptionist, if she's not part of it, is their cannon fodder. They'll let her absorb the first bullets if they fly.

"Electronics?"

"Computers at every desk that I saw. There might be a server somewhere. If so, you'll want to take that quickly before they destroy it. Standard break-in alarms on the front door, no idea about that other door. Closed-circuit cameras outside the building under the canopy, and inside behind the receptionist. I saw two cameras in the nursery on the back wall pointing out toward the hallway. Anything I missed, Rita?"

"Just a couple things. There is an omni-directional camera in the hall on the ceiling," Chris shook his head, surprised that he had not seen it, "and a camera where that back door is. There's also a small door on the wall back there. It might be your circuit panel. The nursery door has a keypad on it."

"Wow! Good eyes, Sam!"

"And one other thing. That woman with the babies had a neck and shoulders like a linebacker. She might be a nurse, but if she's only a nurse, then I'm an astronaut."

The Captain looked at them both. "Yeah. All right, this layout is very helpful. You think Wednesday for the cavalry to move in?"

The two detectives nodded and Captain Hudson smiled. "Great work. Based on your information, I think eight men for the breach and six for containment should do. Our 'surprise' factor will be limited thanks to their surveillance, so we will have to move quickly. Our meeting tomorrow will include two members of the take down team. We'll set up the final tactics and make sure everyone is in agreement."

"One last thing. You two have final approval on the plan we set down tomorrow, because you won't have any protection or weapons. If there's anything you don't like, so say and we'll modify."

* * *

"Gregory, could we stay in town and go through some of the shops again for a while before dinner?" Their meeting with Jenkins was over and the two of them were heading for the car.

Greg turned away from Samantha and grimaced before looking at her with a smile, "Yeah, we could poke around for a bit, and we need a car seat for Wednesday. You want to walk from here or should we move the car closer?"

Samantha squeezed his hand through her glove and answered. "It's not too terribly cold this afternoon. Let's walk. And I saw that look, by the way..."

Greg laughed and mumbled, "Yeah, I have to learn to hide that better," earning himself a rap on the bottom from his wife.

They passed a gallery and Greg paused to look at the artwork in the window. "You know, Sam, we have wanted something for that wall on the landing. Maybe a Wyoming-type picture - as a reminder of our trip - would look good. Do you mind if I browse through here?"

Samantha laughed, "A reminder besides Daniel James? Really?" When Greg tried to correct himself, she tapped his arm. "I'm just giving you grief. Take your time and look all you want, but if you find anything you like, we should look at it together before you buy. I'm going to keep moving. Let's meet at that store where you bought the clothes - it's just up the street there. Forty-five minutes or so?"

Greg headed into the gallery and Sam made her way up the street, actually ending up back at the outfitter store. She was browsing through and an idea struck her just as a store clerk - the same one that helped her Thursday - walked over. "Welcome back...um...don't tell me...Samantha?" Mrs. Stone nodded in appreciation of her memory - that was always good for customer service. "So, that outfit your husband bought...?"

"It was perfect and a really nice surprise! I love it, and Gregory loved it even more." She lowered her voice. "I wore it Saturday night to dinner and he got a little handsy with me under the table..."

Katherine laughed, "I'm not surprised. You looked gorgeous in it. I won't intrude on your shopping, unless I can help you with something..." she let the statement dangle as a question.

"Actually, I was looking for something for Gregory."

Katherine chuckled and pointed, "A little payback, huh? Our men's section is over there. I can show you. We're starting to get summer clothes now, but we still ha..."

Samantha put her hand on Katherine's arm, interrupting her with a smile. "No, I want something for Greg, but..." she again lowered her voice, "...I want to wear it. Do you have anything like that?"

"Oh..." She smiled at Samantha, speaking softly as well. "Honestly, we don't have much lingerie, just a few things, and nothing vampy or outrageous - we're not _Frederick's of Hollywood_. But I'll show you what we have. I also have a couple of non-lingerie options I think you'll like. I happen to think 'understated' is really sexy, and I'm guessing a t-shirt on your body could make your husband drool!"

Samantha spoke softly again. "Well, I want him to pant a little. Do you have anything in the 'make-him-pant' category?"

"Come with me..."

She saw Gregory walking up the sidewalk towards her and felt a little giddy. That happened to her a lot, but her surprise for him added to the excitement. Katherine had put her purchase in a plain paper bag, so as not to give anything away. She heard a quiet voice - the voice of Rita Lance - warning her against pushing limits like this, but Samantha Stone wasn't listening anymore. The interview with Stafford today had brought up all the awful memories of her separation from Greg. Her terrible behavior, the two days in a drunken stupor, and the way his attempts to save their marriage made her want to strangle him. The knowledge that at one point, she actually hated her husband. The images in her mind of evil Lisa Powers, spending wild nights in their bed while she was at the Williston's, working over her husband with that beautiful body and making him forget all about his wife. All of that was vile now...grotesque - the thoughts almost made her physically sick - and she wanted her mind as far away from them as possible. That was most easily remedied by having Gregory as close to her as possible. She hoped the contents of the bag would help with that.

"Hi! Did you find anything for the house?"

"No, there wasn't anything in the size we need for that spot, but if we decide to remodel our office, they do have some scenery stuff that I think you'll love. Shipping it to Maine will probably cost a fortune, but it would be perfect." He glanced at the bag she was carrying. "What did you get?"

"Just a little something - a souvenir of our trip out here."

"Great! You want to keep shopping or go eat dinner? You barely touched your lunch and I'm buying," he added with a wink.

"Yeah, I'm hungry, but I want to go home."

"Sam, are you still not feeling well?"

"I feel pretty good, but I just want to be alone with you. I don't want to share you with anybody tonight. Tomorrow we'll be meeting with Richard in the evening and the following night," her face brightened, "we'll have Daniel James. Let's order room service, have a quiet dinner, the fireplace - just us. Are you alright with that?"

Greg smiled. "I can't think of too many things I'd enjoy more. Let's go!"

Samantha kissed his cheek. "You endured more shopping this afternoon. If there's time tomorrow, we'll hit the slopes again. Sound good?"

"Samantha? Samantha Stone?" The unfamiliar voice made them both turn and look. It took a moment to register, but then...

"Well, hello there, Heidi! This is a pleasant surprise!"

Heidi Pressley walked up, arm-in-arm with a handsome young man. "Wow! What are the odds I would run into you two? This is my boyfriend, Alex Evans. We've been dating almost seven months. Alex, these are the Stones, Greg and Samantha. I met them this morning at work. They're adopting a little boy."

Greg smiled at the younger couple. "Yes, we are. Do you live here in Jackson? That's a huge drive to make every day!"

"No. Alex lives here. I live in Idaho Falls, so we travel to see each other. I got off work a little early - just after you left this afternoon - so I came over here. We were just heading back to my car so I could get started back home when I saw you standing."

"And Greg and I had just finished a bit of shopping and we're heading home to eat and relax. We are staying up at the Village - Teton Mountain Lodge."

Heidi smiled, "Well, we'll keep moving. Have a nice evening and I'll see you tomorrow."

The Stones walked into their room and Samantha exhaled. "It's nice to be here. We're not going anywhere else tonight!" She and Greg picked out their dinners from the menu, but when Greg picked up the phone to place the order, Sam shook her head. "Not yet. Go get a shower and change your clothes."

"Sam, I took a shower this morning. Why do I have to clean up bef..."

"I'm not asking you. That's an order. I'm going to shower, too, but go get started."

When Greg came out of the bedroom after cleaning up, he smiled. His wife had set the little table with dinner dishes and two candles were burning in the center. She had turned the lights down and two more candles were lit above the fireplace, which was crackling in the background. The room was warm and very cozy. Romantic. "Oh Greg, you look so handsome." He had put on a long-sleeved mock turtleneck and a pair of dark jeans. Samantha walked over and hugged him, taking his hands. "Mmm...and you smell fantastic!" She reached up and kissed him.

Greg wrinkled his nose. "And you stink! You need to hose yourself off! I'm not sure I'll be able to sit at the table with you." She laughed and headed for the bathroom, carrying the bag from the store.

Greg was putting their dinner on the table when Samantha walked out. "Hey Sam, they just brought dinner and everything's hot..." He glanced up at her and then looked down at the food. It took a moment for her appearance to register in his brain, but when it did...

Greg Stone was stunned and he looked up again, staring with his mouth open. His wife was a vision! He didn't know if she was wearing an evening cocktail dress or a nightie, but it didn't matter. Whatever it was, it was breathtaking! Samantha was in a black dress - if you could call it a dress - with a deeply plunging neckline. It was tied by a single strap behind her neck and ended with a little flair just below her thighs. It hugged every curve of her perfect figure.

"Samantha Lynn...I..." he stuttered and stammered before simply giving up. "Every time I think you can't be more sexy and beautiful than you are, you go off and prove me wrong. You look...dazzling - and why are you blushing?"

"You're embarrassing me, Gregory. I just wanted to look really nice for you tonight."

"Well, you look gorgeous every night, but this...this is incredible!"

Greg pulled her chair out for her and she sat down. Greg leaned down and kissed her neck. "Mmm...and you smell fabulous, too! What is that perfume you're wearing?"

"It's new. It's called Two-Kiss."

"Wow! I love it! Feel free to wear it any time."

The dinner was fantastic, but Gregory was too taken with his wife to really taste anything. Everything else - the cutting of the knife, lifting each bite with the fork, chewing, swallowing - were just culinary distractions to the main attraction sitting across the table. Samantha was trying to be casual with her husband, but she knew her outfit was driving him crazy. She laughed to herself, knowing she was getting a little payback for the way he had gotten her so worked up the night before last. This kind of revenge was the best kind.

Greg cleaned up after dinner and his wife continued to torment him, walking through the kitchen area and brushing her fingers against his bottom as he washed the dishes, running her hands across his back and up his neck. She grabbed a towel and dried the plates, just so she could rub her thighs on his hips. She could see her husband getting a little short of breath - this was sweet torture for him.

When cleanup was done, she took his hand and led him to the sofa, where he sat down. She grabbed a blanket, pulled it over them, and snuggled into her husband. His hand wrapped around her body, resting on the fringe of her dress that was at her thigh. He moved the fabric aside and rested his hand on bare skin, his hand molding to her hip. Greg looked at her and asked, "What is it with you and undergarments? You have an aversion all of a sudden?"

She leaned in and planted several kisses on the on the fabric that covered his chest. "I didn't have any underwear that worked with this outfit. Do you..." she put her lips on his, forcing his mouth open with her tongue before pulling away and exhaling, "...want me to go put something else on?"

"Absolutely not!"

They sat quietly for a couple of minutes before she laid her hand on top of his. She took a deep breath. "Gregory, there's something I need to ask you. I've wanted to ask since our separation ended, but have been afraid to. I'm afraid of making you angry and I'm afraid of the truth."

"Sam, that was almost two years ago. It's old news now, so I'm pretty sure I won't be angry and I promise to tell you the truth."

"Ok. Well, I only thought about it today because it came back to me during the interview, but I have to admit, I thought about it an awful lot in the past." She paused for a moment. "Lisa Powers. Did you sleep with her when I left?"

Greg was astonished. "You've been thinking about that for nearly two years and haven't asked me? Seriously? Why?"

"Please don't get mad. Like I said, I didn't want to know the answer, and things were so good with us after all that. I just didn't want to rock the boat. I really think she was after you, and had she not transferred, she still would be."

"Ok, well, first off, I'm not angry, but I wish you would have asked me about Lisa way back. I could have spared you two years of wondering and simply told you 'absolutely not'. Sam, I never had anything to do with Lisa other than work at the hospital. I knew she was a come-on. All of us doctors knew that, and several mentioned she was after me - no idea why, but she was. In fact, the day you left our home, Mary warned me about Lisa - said she was coming for me. But nothing happened. I told you then that I loved you and Lisa Powers wasn't going to change that. Is that what..." he paused briefly to rub the smooth skin of her thigh, "...all this tonight is about?"

"No, no. Please don't think that. During the interview today, so many awful things came back. The terrible things I said and did - things I thought were long gone from my memory. Lisa was just one of them. After this morning, all I could think about was showing you how much I love you - and that I'll never leave you again - ever. I couldn't bear living without you."

"Hey..." Greg whispered as he squeezed her tightly, planting several kisses against her hair, "I'll never stop loving you, either."

They sat quietly for a couple of minutes and Samantha could feel the heat starting to build in her. Greg turned on the TV and started flipping through the channels. She was hoping he would find an old movie, just for background noise, but options were very limited. He stopped on an NBA game, and Samantha waited patiently for him to change the channel. When he didn't, she shifted her body ever so slightly, just enough so that Greg's hand had a tiny bit more of her backside. Her husband, however, was getting into the game, his hand now absentmindedly rubbing her skin. She exhaled a couple of times - still he didn't figure it out. After a thunderous dunk by some Clipper named Wilkins and a little fist pump from Gregory, she said quietly, "Ok...", and reached over, taking the remote from his hand and thumbing the power button.

Greg looked at her in the sudden silence of the room, no noise louder than the simulated crackling from the gas fireplace. If he couldn't understand 'subtle hint'..."Gregory, don't you want to make out for a while?"

"What?" Greg asked with a laugh. "Sam, what are we, fifteen?"

"I hope not. The first time I made out with a boy - Robert Jorgensen was his name - I was fifteen. Daddy caught me kissing him and Bobby's hands were behind my neck. I thought Bobby was a dead man. He ran out of the house like a scalded cat and, oh, did I get it! An angry Stan Burrows was something to behold, but best not experienced with you on the receiving end."

She got up and turned around, straddling her husband's lap and facing him, pulling the blanket over them and putting her arms around his neck. "But I'm not fifteen tonight, my love..."

"You're definitely not fifteen..." Greg said in agreement, running his hands from her hips up the smooth fabric of her dress.

"...and Daddy is a long ways away..." she whispered before she kissed him, allowing her lips to only just graze his.

"...he most certainly better be..."

"...and your hands can start at my neck...oh...!" she gasped as he turned her head and ran his tongue behind her ear, then down her neck. "...but they better...Gregory!...they better not stay there..."

* * *

Heidi Pressley walked through the front door of her apartment and exhaled deeply. The two-hour drive from Jackson always wore her out, but the time with Alex had been fantastic! They often walked the streets of Jackson when she came to visit, and while Alex would have rather been doing other things - skiing, snowmobiling, hiking, pretty much anything else - he tolerated it. It never got boring for Heidi, because she loved the little shops and stores, and there was just enough turnover in inventory to keep things interesting. Today she had purchased a couple of pictures for the bedroom wall - a light shopping day when compared with previous trips.

It had been a real surprise to run into Greg and Samantha Stone while downtown. They seemed like such a nice couple and they clearly loved each other. And it was weird, almost like Deja-vu, because they seemed so familiar. Heidi was sure she had seen them before, even when they first walked through her door at work, but she knew no one from Maine. She shook her head, laughing at the way the mind sometimes worked. They were both doctors, so they probably had money, unless college or medical-school debt still crippled them.

College. She laughed aloud as she took off her coat. Two years in junior college had been the extent of her higher education before she left school - against her parents' wishes - and headed west for the mountains and the scenery. Heidi promised her folks that she would earn a degree at some point, but now was not that point. She was having too much fun. Being a receptionist at _Hearts of Love_ would never make her wealthy, but the pay was good given what was required in her job description - answer phones, file papers, and work with customers who were always excited and happy because they were getting a child. Overall, pretty good.

Heidi had several very close friends in Idaho Falls and they liked to travel around the area on day trips, just exploring the little towns and looking for obscure treasures. That was how she met Alex. She and her girlfriends had driven to Jackson to shop and he was their waiter at lunch. He was so cute - and funny! He had them in stitches on several occasions, and he had smiled at her several times. As they were leaving, he asked if he could call her sometime. She gave him her number and told him she lived across the state line, figuring she wouldn't hear from him again. She was wrong, and now she really liked him. Alex was good-looking, possessed an incredibly dry sense of humor, and wasn't self-absorbed. And he was athletic, sort of like her younger brother David.

David Pressley. He was the reason she hadn't taken more flack for leaving school. His star-power shone so brightly that it cast deep shadows where Heidi could easily hide. He was a three-sport star in this, his senior season of high school. The University of Miami was courting him as an all-state wide receiver. He was a nineteen-point, ten-rebound-per-game machine on the basketball court. He was being scouted by both the Atlanta Braves and a new team, the Florida Marlins, for his three-pitch arsenal and a fastball that topped ninety-five on the gun. Rumor had it that David could be drafted in the second or third round of the upcoming baseball draft.

David was the man, and he could do no wrong. She loved her kid brother, but was also a little jealous of his success, and the way mom and dad doted on him. Once a month, mom would send her a package. It wasn't a care package with cookies or some socks or a twenty-dollar bill, and it wasn't a gift or a letter wanting to catch up. Rather, she sent the local newspapers showing David's latest exploits. There were box scores, line scores, or photographs of David making a leaping grab in the end zone - maybe an interview. Every month, just like clockwork, the package would arrive. Eight or nine newspapers in a box - the regular reminder that her brother was headed for stardom and her life was, by comparison, safely mired in boredom.

She set the pictures down on the table and looked at the newspapers stacked there. Her mom sent them two weeks ago, and they covered his basketball exploits for a month, starting in mid-February. There were also two or three baseball interviews in there - he was a regular guest of the papers. She had already gone through this batch once last week, but had yet to cut out the stuff she wanted to keep. Yeah, she was jealous of David, but Heidi was still the older sister and wanted mementos of his rise to inevitable fame.

With Alex not here and nothing better to do, she flopped down, grabbing the newspaper with the full-page-David-Pressley feature in it and flipping through the pages to the sports section. There it was, and because it was a full page, she could cut it with her eyes closed. She glanced at the opposite page as she grabbed her scissors, skimming its contents. Her eyes fell on a picture there. She looked at it, then studied it more closely. Her eyes got as big as saucers. It was Greg and Samantha Stone - it had to be! That's where she had seen them - in the paper! She glanced at the text surrounding the photo and the scissors fell from her hand, her mind beginning to race. "What? This can't be right!" she whispered to the empty kitchen. Something was very wrong. She looked around the room, trying to think, and hoping a solution would jump from behind the counter.

* * *

Samantha Stone was walking with a camel on a beach as the sun dropped below the horizon. Looking to the right, she could see the deep violet of the night sky that was fast creeping up over the mountains, replacing the daytime glow on her left. She paused to take in the beauty of the moment and the camel stopped, waiting for his owner to continue. Suddenly the bell from her elementary school was ringing - she would never forget that sound. It rang, then stopped ringing, then rang again. The camel was gone and she looked toward the water, deeply puzzled, as the ringing pattern continued. Then consciousness seeped in and she stirred, peeking open her eyes in the dark amidst a tangle of her own curls, bed sheets, and the warm, sweet-smelling flesh of her husband. Her left arm was draped across his chest and his left arm was crooked under her neck.

She sighed with contentment and kissed his skin - and the school bell rang yet again, which she now recognized as the phone. Gregory groaned but didn't move - he could sleep through an explosion - so she slithered over his bare chest. She moaned lightly at his cologne, which was almost enough to cause her to ignore the phone and wake him up again. Instead, she picked up the receiver, croaking into the mouthpiece, "You had better be on fire..."

"Hello, Rita?" said a voice.

Samantha groaned, slurring the words of her response, "I'm sorry. You have the wrong number..."

"Is this Rita Lance?"

Sam became a little more strident - sleep was courting her heavily, "No it's not. I said you have the wrong number..." She glanced at the clock, which was staring back with a '2:50am' on its face, "...and it's almost three in the morning! Go away..." She dropped the receiver back on the cradle.

Instantly awake, Rita shook Chris lightly and whispered, "Christopher! Wake up!"


	9. Revelation

The drive to Idaho Falls was far easier on Tuesday morning due to familiarity, but Greg and Samantha were dragging a bit for lack of sleep. And for Chris and Rita, there was an awful lot of anxiety mixed in. For the first time since they left Portland last Thursday - it seemed like weeks ago now - they felt uncertainty and even danger creeping into the operation. The call they received had been a shock, and from her perspective in the passenger's seat, Rita felt very fortunate to not have completely blown their cover. Her romantic time with Chris had completely worn her out, making her more prone to mistakes.

Just as they had already decided, there was no sexual activity, but in all other ways, her partner had once again driven her absolutely crazy, and she had returned the favor. Any potential eavesdroppers were probably red-faced by what they heard. The halter dress she bought had really done a number on him - he was all over her! By the time they left the living room and raced to the bed, her wish had come true - Chris was panting for her - and it thrilled her. But she was panting even more, and her mind was numb to everything but his lips, his tongue, and his hands.

So when she tried to wake him after hanging up the phone, Chris simply groaned and again wrapped his arms around her, his hands sliding down her back and coming to rest on her bottom where that gorgeous, naughty black dress ended. His lips found hers and then moved to her cheek and neck, causing those feelings to start in her again. "Will this be round two...or round three?" he breathed into her throat. A part of her wanted to continue, but everything had changed with a ten-second phone call, and she pulled away.

"No, Christopher, this is serious. Wake up! We've been made!" she whispered.

Chris turned all business. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and answered quietly, "Are you sure?"

"Yes! The person that just called asked if I was Rita Lance."

Chris took a deep breath and hung his head.

Rita misunderstood his actions and responded angrily. "Chris, don't you dare blame this on me!"

He touched her arm. "Sam, it's not your fault. I would never blame you. You are much better at undercover work than I am. I'm just thinking." He paused for a few seconds. "Ok. Clearly, whoever it was knows we're staying here. They probably called the main line and asked the front desk for the Greg or Samantha, since no one here knows who we really are."

They quietly worked through possibilities, starting with the people who knew Chris and Rita were in Jackson. Captain Hudson, but there was absolutely no way he would call. Same for Harry and anyone with Palm Beach PD, and other than a few Federal Agents, that was it. Then they moved to those who knew about the Stones. It was a larger list - some airline folks, car rental guy, hotel staff, lady at the clothing store, courier that picked up the payment for the clothes, _Hearts of Love_ staff - but none of those people knew about the operation, so none of them would have any connection to them as detectives.

There was silence as they both worked back, then Chris gasped, "Wait, the hotel back in Portland...Palm Beach PD had an agreement with them..."

Rita shook her head and whispered, taking no chances and assuming the walls were listening, "No, Chris. We made those reservations for us, but said nothing about the Stones. No one at the Embassy should have any knowledge of our cover."

"Man's voice or a woman?"

Rita gave it some thought. "It sounded like a woman wanting to sound like a man."

"Hmm...yeah, or it could have been a man wanting to sound like a woman sounding like a man." He exhaled, his frustration evident. "We were so close - this close!" he said, holding his thumb almost against his index finger. "Wait. Could it be just random chance, maybe there's another Rita Lance someone was trying to call and just happened to...?"

His idea dried up when she simply cocked her head and gave him her 'you-can't-be-serious' look. "Yeah," he conceded, "not very likely."

Rita leaned in close to him, speaking just above a whisper, and her scent captured him again. That Two-Kiss perfume was incredibly intoxicating, and her nightwear was a major distraction. He had never seen her look as gorgeous as she did right now, with her hair messed up and her makeup smeared a bit from their earlier activities. She was so beautiful. He couldn't tell her, but that time rolling around in bed with her was, to this point, just about the best night of his life. If Harry had seen or even heard one second of it, he would be grabbing at his heart and reaching for a pill bottle! Chris knew why every unmarried male officer in the Palm Beach PD was jealous of him, and he loved it...

"...are our two options." Rita paused, waiting for him to speak. "Christopher?"

Chris stared blankly at his partner before his eyes fluttered. "Huh? What? I'm sorry, could you repeat that? Uh...it's three-fifteen."

She slapped his arm lightly, "Wake up and get with the program! I said we can either move forward like nothing happened, or we somehow get in touch with Hudson."

Chris got his bearings back. "Now I'm worried the hotel is being watched. If we leave to visit Hudson now, we risk being marked. Whoever it is knows they just called. If they see us leave, they'll know we know they're onto us, and the gig is up. We become targets. If we even turn the lights on right now, someone might notice. We can't call from this phone, just in case. So in my thinking, Hudson is out."

Rita thought, "Whoever it was may just be fishing. Somehow, somewhere - I have no idea how - someone made a connection and they wonder if the Stones are impostors, so they're probing. I didn't give anything away by telling them they had a wrong number and hanging up. Anyone getting a call like that at 3am would do what I did. So if we act as though we think it was just a wrong number, whoever is on the other end may think they're mistaken. What do you think?"

"I think I'm wishing we had access to our firearms, and I think you're spot on, Rita. That's our best option for now. And I'm going to be very watchful as we drive over this morning - that's when the other two officers got hit. Regardless, at tonight's meeting with Hudson, we're going to have to tell him what happened. At the very least, someone is questioning our cover. If something goes way wrong and we held back important information, it'll be his neck and ours in the noose with the Feds."

"Agreed."

"Ok, so for now, you're still Samantha Stone and I'm still Gregory. We play this out, but keep our wits about us."

"Yep."

"Then come here..." Gregory Stone pulled Samantha to him.

She started to pull away. "No, we need to go back to sl...Gregory...!" she grunted as Greg ran his tongue over that spot on her neck, just below and behind her ear - the spot that drove her mad - and then repeated it several times. Samantha's breathing deepened and her desire for sleep began to fade, giving way to a more pressing need. She lightly moved her fingernails across his chest. He moved to kiss her chin, and then nibbled it lightly with his teeth before moving down to her neck. He planted soft kisses with his lips and tongue, savoring the taste of her and mixing in an occasional gentle bite with his teeth, drifting lower on her exposed skin. His hands roamed down her naked back, then up again to her neck where the dress was tied, causing goosebumps on her arms and legs. It was exquisite torture - every move he made and every place he touched was perfect. Her body relaxed - Greg was strumming it back to that place again - and she moaned quietly, warming to him and desperate for greater pleasure..."Ok," she panted again, her arms on his shoulders and hands clasped behind his neck, "maybe just a few minutes..."

An hour later, she collapsed on her husband, her chest heaving against him and his fingers tracing random patterns across her back, which was flushed and moist with sweat. He pulled the covers over her before closing his eyes and whispered, "I love you, Sam."

"Love you, baby..."

They arrived in Idaho Falls at 8:45, after driving from Jackson without incident. Given what had happened to officers Winston and Sebring, the two detectives were very mindful of traffic around them. One car stayed behind them for nearly thirty miles, but eventually passed and turned off in front of them as they drove through a little town called Palisades.

They were a bit early for their appointment, so they used the extra time to stop at the Wal-Mart and purchase a baby seat. Samantha laughed at her husband, fumbling around trying to install it without bothering to even peek at the instructions. After watching him struggle and grunt through the process, she pulled him out of the back seat, handed him the paper she took out of the box, pointed and said, "Here, read these two paragraphs out loud."

Three minutes later, as he finished reading, she had the device secured snugly in place. Samantha got out of the car and looked at her husband. He shrugged his shoulders and quipped, "I just about had it figured out, and I definitely would have done it faster if you were reading."

She shook her head and got back in the front seat, mumbling, "Chauvinist pig..." Gregory laughed and fired right back, "But I'm the chauvinist pig you love, remember?"

"We're going to be late, Gregory. I hope you drive faster than you install car seats."

Heidi greeted them again as they walked through the doorway of _Hearts of Love_. "Good morning! How are you both today?"

"A little tired, but alright," Samantha said simply.

Heidi looked at Greg, who snickered and said, "Yeah, I think I'm just a little too much man for her..."

His wife backhanded him in the stomach in mock anger, "Gregory! I was right - you are a pig! Is this what you're going to teach our son?"

"That and a whole lot more, Sam."

"Ok, you've just been fired from all educational duties with our children." Turning to Heidi, she said, "Pay no attention to Cro-Magnon man here. He's a little full of himself and clearly overestimates certain...abilities. Actually, we had a wrong-number call at 3am."

Heidi laughed, playing into Gregory's insinuations. "Oh, so 'a wrong-number call' is the term you older folks are using now...?"

Gregory smiled and winked at Heidi, earning himself another jab in the ribs. Samantha shook her head, "Ok, that's pretty funny, but we really did get a phone call in the middle of the night, and it took a while to get back to sleep." Clearly, it was time to change the subject. "So - it was nice to bump into you yesterday afternoon. Your boyfriend seems really pleasant."

"Thanks! I really like him. He's great. Once the adoption is complete, how long do you plan to stay in Jackson? Or are you staying at all?"

Sam looked at her husband, who answered. "We'll be here tomorrow - of course - and we'll stay Thursday, then maybe fly out Friday. I don't know, maybe Saturday. I really want to ski again and the hotel is happy to keep charging us for the room. We haven't purchased return-flight tickets because we weren't sure how long we were staying."

Samantha smiled and added, "And once we get back to Portland, I'm on maternity leave for eight weeks to be with Daniel - his name will be Daniel James - and Gregory took next week off. So we have a bit of flexibility."

Heidi hesitated before continuing. "That's great. I was just thinking, you know, just an idea, and it's alright if you say no, but maybe Alex and I could meet you for dinner. Maybe Thursday night...? I'm heading to Jackson again."

Greg said, "I don't see why not. We'll see how everything plays out the next few days."

Both of them were a little concerned about the one-on-one interviews, but actually, they were very straightforward. A woman named Susanna who looked to be about thirty-five conducted the interviews and each only lasted an hour. Samantha had to discuss her early marital troubles again, but the counselor said the separation was too brief for concern, especially given the strength of their relationship now.

Heidi Pressley conducted her own interviews, talking with each of them a little while the other was back with Susanna. She was still trying to figure out if the Stones were actually police officers from Palm Beach. She had the page from the newspaper in her purse, and she thought about showing it to them, but decided against it. She had wrestled with it much of the night, trying to figure out if the picture and the people were the same. It seemed far too coincidental to be otherwise. It would be one thing if one of them looked like the picture in the paper, but both of them? That seemed far-fetched.

Samantha Stone had mentioned their hotel, so Heidi got up the nerve to call. She waited until almost three in the morning, figuring they would be asleep and a phone call at that hour would catch them completely off-guard. If ever they would reveal their true identities, it would be then. When Samantha answered the phone, however, nothing seemed out-of-place with her response. There was no hesitation, no stumbles. It was just the typical 'you-have-the-wrong-number-goodbye' that any person would get when misdialing in the middle of the night.

But more than the 'could-it-be' question was the 'how-come'. Why would two police officers travel all the way to Idaho to adopt a child? Why would they assume the role of a married couple to do it? How could they possibly pass through all the background checks with completely false identities? She thought about it as she filed some papers. Option one was that the people in the paper just looked almost identical to the Stones but were altogether different people - the most likely option. Option two was that they were police officers and they didn't want anyone in Palm Beach to know they were adopting a child. It made no sense to her, but was theoretically possible. Option three was that they were police officers and they didn't want anyone here to know who they were. If that was the case, then something bigger was going on.

She decided it was a mystery. There were forces at work here beyond her, in places of power that she would never touch, and this mystery needed to be solved. Like the characters in the Robert Ludlum novels that lined her apartment bookshelf, she was the person thrust into the middle of a conspiracy with no way out except for her wits and smarts. Step one was easy, and she would execute it tonight...

After breaking for lunch, Greg and Samantha were allowed to spend nearly three hours with their baby. As they held him for the first time, Susanna gave them his background. "Daniel James was born the nineteenth of February in a little village about an hour north of Seoul, South Korea. Twenty inches long and eight pounds, two ounces. His birth mother is single and just fourteen, and her parents were not going to allow her to raise a child when she hadn't even finished the equivalent of our high school. They forced her to put the baby up for adoption. There are no drug or alcohol issues with the baby - the mother was completely clean." She paused before continuing. "As of this morning, he is twenty-one inches long and is up to nine pounds, three ounces. He's not missing any meals, that's for sure," she added with a smile.

The time with Daniel James was precious for the two doctors. They took turns feeding him a bottle before laying him on a blanket on the floor. For a while, they watched his eyes roam around and his little arms and legs wiggle. Sometimes his mouth would open and his tongue would pop out, or he would make little squeaks and sounds. Gregory put his index finger in Daniel's hand and felt his little grip, as tight as a five-week-old could manage. He lightly rubbed the baby's forehead, feeling the black peach-fuzz hair, looking into his dark eyes, and whispering, "See, you have hair just like your dad's..." As they sat the floor, Samantha put her arm around her husband, fighting back tears and watching his interaction with their son.

Before long, Daniel's eyes began to droop and he yawned. "Someone's getting sleepy," Samantha said with a smile as she picked up. She took him to the changing table, got him in a clean diaper, and sat down to rock him. Ten minutes later, he was asleep and she squeezed him lightly and looked at Gregory, "I think our son is making himself right at home." He walked over and kissed her forehead, then kissed the baby before she laid him in the crib. She turned and hugged Susanna. "Thank you so much for all you've done. I'm so happy - we both are." Her voice was cracking and she turned away quickly.

They met with Bill, their caseworker, just before they left. He reminded them of the final part of the process. "Tomorrow, if you're here at nine, we'll complete the final paperwork and adoption forms, and that's pretty much it. As you know, the final fee is fifteen thousand dollars, and you can pay with credit card or a certified check. And that point, you have a new addition to your family. Are there any other questions you have for me?" When the Stones shook their heads, he finished up. "Then we'll see you again tomorrow morning. Drive sa...oh! Have you purchased an infant seat for the car? If so, I need to come out and confirm you have installed before you go. Then we're done for today."

Heidi told them to have a good day as they walked by, adding quietly, "Keep Thursday night in mind. I know you'll have been parents for only a day, but if you can..."

Three hours later, Chris and Rita were seated at a pub table with Captain Hudson and three other men. One was the squad leader in charge of the team that was moving against the adoption agency in the morning. The two other men were assault team members. There were six bottles of beer standing on the tabletop, but they had barely been touched. Instead, there were several sheets of paper, some markers, and a larger, laminated diagram of the interior of the _Hearts of Love_ building, showing the rooms and halls. There were brown circles for people, blue circles for the computers, and little plus signs showing cameras.

Captain Hudson was speaking, looking at Chris. "...and I drew up a larger diagram of the space based on your napkin drawings. First, with the blue markers, you and Rita need to add anything we've missed."

"The counselor - Susanna - is definitely female, and we didn't see any new faces from yesterday. Is that right, Chris?"

Lorenzo nodded. "When we walked by the nursery, there were just three babies. The baby girl was gone, so maybe she went out yesterday, but I didn't ask."

After they marked up the diagram, Hudson rolled the red marker to the assault leader, whose last name was Montross. As the marker rolled toward him, Chris put his hand out and stopped it. "Hang on, Cap, we might have a problem. Rita?"

"Yeah, our phone rang at three this morning. I answered it and someone asked for 'Rita Lance'. I was only half-awake, but all I told the voice was they had a wrong number and to leave us alone. Then I hung up."

Captain Hudson sat back in his chair, frustration starting to build. "And you're just telling me this now?" He shook his head. "I think this changes everything!"

"I'm not so sure, Cap. Rita and I talked it through after the call and it's possible that someone has made a connection between the Stones and us, but only suspects something. The phone call may have been a test. If whoever-it-was knew for sure, they wouldn't need to call. Like the two officers before us, they would simply try to kill us at some point. We think our cover is still intact, but somebody is closing in and definitely knows too much. We didn't contact you because we figured doing that at three in the morning was a sure way to blow our cover if anyone was watching."

The Captain squinted at them. "I can see that. So what do you want to do?"

"Chris and I are comfortable playing this out. We got no indication anyone at the agency is in the know, so we're brave enough to press on. I think we would like to have firearms in the car for the drive over tomorrow, just in case. But regardless, we move forward."

Captain thought for a moment. "It's a 'yes' to firearms for you, but they stay in the car under the seats. If you take them into the building tomorrow and they're discovered, you're history. Don't take that risk. I have a bad feeling someone in that agency somehow put things together. If so, you could be in terrible danger! Keep your wits about you. We would rather blow this case than lose two more officers. And if you discover anything else about this between now and tomorrow morning - and I mean anything - I have to know." He looked hard at both of them. "I'm serious. If you get back to the hotel and the carpet fibers aren't the way you left them...?" He pointed at himself. "Dr. Jenkins gets a call."

"We got it, sir. We call a meeting with Dr. Jenkins." Chris smiled and rolled the red marker to Montross.

He laid out their plan, drawing on the diagram as he spoke. "We have fourteen men, broken into teams of eight and six. We will arrive in two unmarked vans around 11:30am. We will park two blocks apart, so that we sort of flank the building and maintain a greater element of surprise. We will be ready to move at 12:00am, but will wait to see you exit the building with the baby. That will be our queue. The eight-man team will move in through the front door to secure the inside of the building, walking that hallway and clearing the rooms from front to back. The six-man team will quickly surround the building, to watch windows and doors for potential escapees. Since we suspect two officers have already been killed, we assume that they are armed and dangerous and we are prepared to use lethal force if necessary. Our team is fully aware of the nursery and I will personally be in charge - with one other man - of securing that area and getting any infants in there to safety. We want to secure the building in three minutes. Hit hard, hit fast, as little shooting as possible. Any questions?"

There were none. "Once we've dealt with anyone that can shoot back, we'll confiscate computers, files, papers, everything we can get our hands on. Captain Hudson says there's a bigger operation to break up and all that stuff may help."

"Absolutely. As much of that as we can grab." Taking a sip from his bottle, he looked at his two former employees. "Ok, think about this a bit, tear it apart in your minds, and find any holes. You're the ones inside that place just before this all goes down, so it's your butts. You happy with the plan?"

Rita thought for a minute or two, before nodding to Chris. "I'm good. You?"

"It's feels a little abrupt, but that's only because it's coming tomorrow. This plan is as good as any I could do." He looked at Montross. "When we come out, you strike. That will be good." He looked at his partner before continuing. "If we're not out by 12:15, I think you can assume something has gone off the rails. Come in hard and fast. If we're alright, we'll know that and do what we can to help while not getting shot up." Rita nodded in agreement.

* * *

Greg and Samantha decided to spend the evening in the hotel room. They were tired and a bit nervous about the completion of the adoption. All the frustration, the heartache, the separation, everything would be over in eighteen hours. They desperately hoped everything went well through this final phase, and then they would have their little miracle.

The two detectives were also a bit nervous, though for entirely different reasons. They took the twenty-minute drive from Jackson to Teton Village as an opportunity to talk through the plan as partners. Rita drove as she spoke, wrapping up their discussion. "Our first priority is to stay alive, Sam, but right with it is the need to get the babies out safely. We need to protect them. You think the other guys will shoot back? They seem to be caring, loving people. You think we have this all wrong?

"Don't second-guess this, Rita. It will make you tentative. The Feds believe they have enough to move, and our job is just to facilitate that. The courts will determine their level of guilt. We do our part and let the system work it out." He paused. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just a few nerves."

Chris smiled at Rita and she looked at him. She focused on the road for a bit, but still felt eyes on her. She glanced his way again - he was still looking at her. "What?"

"I don't know, just double-checking. We've been at this almost a week. It ends tomorrow and then we head back to real life after everything wraps up. It kind of feels like a play we've been scripted into and now it's the final act. You ready for normal life again?"

She paused. "I think so."

"Yeah, me neither."

"What do you mean, Chris? You don't want to go back home? Warmth? Sunshine? Blue skies?"

"I guess, but you don't sound all that convinced, either. The whole 'domesticated doctor's life' in this place definitely has its appeal. I can see why people love it. And when you have a great wife..."

Rita cocked her head as she waited for the red light to change. "Christopher, are you saying I've been a good wife to you?"

"No, you haven't been good at all." She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. "You've been great! If my wife was like you, I think I could be happily married."

She laughed and touched his arm. "That's very sweet, Sam. I will say a husband like you would definitely have its advantages."

"Such as...?"

"I don't know...um...you were really good with the baby today. That was great. You're considerate. You have good taste in women's clothing. You have dangerous hands and lips..." Chris laughed aloud. "...You're a terrible skier..." she paused, "...but mostly, I would never have to wonder if you loved me, because I think I would always know."

Chris took her hand and kissed it before looking out his window. "Yes you would, Rita. Yes you would..."

Greg and Samantha walked through the doors of the lodge and headed up to their room. They were just getting ready to order dinner when their phone rang. Greg gave his wife a puzzled look and she shrugged, "Hope it's not another wrong number..." as he picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" He listened. "Really? Uh, sure, tell her we'll be down in a minute." He hung up. "Heidi Pressley is at the front desk and wants to talk to us."

The three of them walked from the lobby to the library area and sat down. Samantha smiled, "This is a surprise. You visit Alex again?"

"Actually, no. Alex doesn't know I'm here tonight. I need to ask you something." She paused before continuing, looking at each of them. "Are you police officers?"

Chris Lorenzo and Rita Lance had found their early-morning caller... they now knew the 'who', they just didn't know the 'how'.

Gregory smiled. "Nope. We are doctors. When I was little, I wanted to be a cop, but I ended up a pediatrician. Sam is an anesthesiologist. Her specialty is putting people to sleep." He laughed and his wife squinted at him and opened her mouth to say something, but Heidi continued.

"Yeah, um, ok. A little bit about me. I've lived in Idaho Falls for about three years, but I was born and raised in Boynton Beach, Florida. My parents and younger brother David live there. David is something of a super-stud athlete and he's going to be a star and make a huge amount of money and I'm living in the middle of nowhere making thirteen-fifty an hour." She rolled her eyes. "But anyways..."

"My parents can't wait for him to make it big, and they like to remind me of it all the time. So they send me all the newspapers that have articles about him, interviews with him, you know..."

"Well, a couple weeks back, mom sent me the monthly package of 'David Pressley worship', mostly the Palm Beach Post, and in there, I ran across this..." she paused to pull a page from her purse that she unfolded and handed to them. "On the other page was a big interview with David, but on the opposite page here..."

There was no denying the image, nor the headline. Chris and Rita were looking at a picture of themselves under a headline that read _'Palm Beach Officer Honored for Saving Partner's Life'_. Chris eyed the article that began, _'Sergeant Chris Lorenzo is the latest recipient of the Palm...'_ , but there was no point reading it. He had never seen this piece - he didn't know it had even made the papers - but he knew what it would say. Rita knew as well.

Heidi looked at the article with them for a minute before speaking. "That's you, isn't it? You are cops."

Chris' mind was running at warp speed, trying to think of an angle, but Rita ended the ruse a moment later. "Yeah, Heidi, you're right. Grego - no, Chris and I are officers with the Palm Beach Police Department. We're on assignment here."

Heidi laughed, "Hah! I was right! When you first walked in the office doors, you looked vaguely familiar, but I didn't know why. I kept trying to figure it out. I went home last night and happened to thumb through this paper again...bingo! I called you early this morning, but when you answered, I started to think I was wrong. I was going to tell your caseworker, that's Bill, but decided to talk to you first. Tell me what's going on."

Chris looked at Rita, who shrugged - keeping the truth from Ms. Pressley would only make her more curious, more likely to talk, and more likely to blow everything up.

Chris looked Heidi in the eye and spoke quietly but very sternly. "What we are going to tell you is part of a Federal case. You seem really nice and we like you, but you breathe one word of this to anyone - Alex, your mom, your stuffed dog at home - and it gets back to me or in any way jeopardizes our work, I will personally put handcuffs on you - if the Federal government doesn't move in and crush you first. Am I being clear?

"Perfectly."

Chris and Rita laid out the basics of what was going on - the criminal activity as best they knew it and their insertion into the case - and Heidi's pulse quickened. "You must be mistaken! I've been at _Hearts_ for two years. I've worked with all these people! They love children. The idea they would steal them and sell them like cattle,..." she paused, "...this is preposterous!"

Rita shook her head. "Well, the FBI disagrees with you. There are at least eight cases pending - and if the baby girl we saw yesterday but not today has been adopted, at least nine cases - and they believe they have enough evidence to move in."

"Well, I don't believe any of it!" Then her demeanor softened a bit. "You're serious, aren't you?" When the detectives nodded, she continued. "I haven't done anything, and I don't want to go to jail. What can I do to prove that _Hearts_ is innocent?"

Chris said, "Heidi, I think we believe that you're innocent. We have seen these kinds of operations for years, and the leaders almost always hire unwitting participants to help with cover. I know that sounds awful, but that's how it usually works."

"Chris is right, but let me add that we're not assuming anybody is guilty. However, because the FBI believes that crimes have been committed, they are going to dig into it. If you want to help us, there is something you can do. Any personnel files, any adoption files, anything you have access to on your computer? Copy it to floppy disks. If _Hearts of Love_ is a criminal front, the first thing they will do when we move in is destroy the evidence. If you can help us with that, it goes a long way to confirming your innocence."

"Well, I still don't believe they're guilty, but I know I'm innocent, so I'll do what I can. Can I ask when this is going to happen?"

"Yeah, after Chris and I walk out with the baby tomorrow morning, they'll move in. If we don't come out by 12:15, they move in anyways. Keep your head down. We believe two people have already been murdered, so our guys will have guns. Your co-workers might, too. Stay down. We'll let our people know to watch out for you. And don't let anyone see that newspaper piece!"

"But the babies…!"

"The babies are our number one priority. Rita and I both are well aware of them and we will do everything possible to keep them safe."

Heidi looked down. "Wow, this is a lot to process. I guess this means a Thursday dinner date is out..."

Rita smiled and patted her knee. "Let's get through tomorrow and we'll see what happens afterwards."

"You know, had I not seen that article in the paper, I was totally convinced you two were married." Heidi cocked her head. "You guys secretly...?"

"No, nothing secret, but Chris and I have been partners for quite a while and spend a lot of time together, both at work and off-the-clock. We're best friends."

Heidi smiled back. "Well, you know what they say about best friends..."

"Yeah, we do, and you have a long drive again tonight. You better get started."

After Heidi left, Greg and Samantha Stone walked hand-in-hand to the pool, where they sat a bit, watching a couple of families play in the water with their kids.

"Someday, that will be us, Sam..." Greg said as he stood up to go.

"Tomorrow..."

Chris and Rita walked to the car and drove to a pay phone, where they spoke to Captain Hudson and filled him in on Heidi. He wasn't happy, but at the same time, he understood their reasoning. "If we didn't tell Heidi, her persistence would have added to our danger. If she mentioned that newspaper article to anyone at work...? Disaster!"

"We may still have a disaster, kids..."

"But at least she won't be asking any questions, so really, we're no worse off now than we were this afternoon."

"True, but you two be ready for anything tomorrow. We're almost there."

Ninety minutes later, Greg and Samantha Stone were lying quietly in bed. She was on her side and he was against her back, his arm snuggled around her waist. Rita spoke, her voice just a whisper, "I'm a little nervous, Christopher. I have a bad feeling I can't shake."

"Hey, everything is going to be fine. We go in, get the baby, walk out, and a bunch of other people walk into the lion's den."

"What if something goes wrong?"

"What do you mean 'if'? Something will go wrong. It always does. No plan ever goes right to script." His words were prophetic, though he didn't know it yet. "We'll improvise, we'll figure it out, and we'll be fine." He squeezed her lightly to confirm it.

But for all his confidence, Chris was nervous, too. He always was worried, though he was good at hiding it, and his hand moved lightly across her belly. Though he couldn't feel it beneath the fabric of the t-shirt, the knife wound was there, the now-constant reminder of the night when something did go wrong, and the failure - his failure - that nearly cost Rita everything. He had been struggling for a while where she was concerned, trying to get a grip on his feelings. He still didn't know what was going on, but these past days had changed him.

He was beginning to have new thoughts about her, new ideas...new hopes. They had never spent this kind of time together alone, much less alone as a married couple. He had uncovered another dimension to her - that of a loving, caring, wife that deeply loved her husband. Yeah, it was play-acting, but so real at the same time. They had talked earlier that this movie was approaching 'the ride into the sunset', but a good portion of him didn't ever want it to end. And there was the old feeling, too. A feeling he had carried with him for a long time - he would do anything to protect Rita, because he knew his life was largely empty without her.

He felt Rita's hand close over his, and she lifted it past her chest to her lips and kissed it several times, before resting it under her cheek. "Goodnight, Christopher." He smiled, even though he couldn't hear the 'I-love-you' she said in her head, but not with her lips.

* * *

Heidi Pressley laid down in her bed, tired enough to sleep, but unable. Her mind, running at high speed when she was trying to decipher 'The Stone Mystery' - as she came to call it - was now racing. She was frightened. All the way home from Jackson, she worked through everything the detectives had told her, trying to process and evaluate it. She still believed her employers were completely straight, but there was a shadow of doubt creeping in. Chris and Rita seemed very honest. Why would two cops from Florida end up clear out here if there wasn't something legitimate to investigate?

Rita's words came back to her... _we're not assuming anyone is guilty, the FBI is just looking into things_...and Heidi tried to parse that out. She reasoned that the FBI probably investigated thousands of people without ever making an arrest. Kind of like when she rented her apartment. She 'investigated' nearly a dozen places, but only selected one. That made sense. From that perspective, her job of collecting files and documents also made sense. More information was better - the better to prove one's innocence.

She wondered if she should tell someone in the morning that the Feds were going to raid the place, and her mind leaped again. If _Hearts of Love_ was innocent, why the need for guns and an assault? Why not just stop in and ask to see documentation? Well, it was the FBI and maybe that's how they operated. Didn't they raid that Koresh guy in Texas last year? Or was that the CIA? She didn't really pay much attention. Shopping and girlfriends and now Alex Evans were more her thing.

So, she thought...what if? What if she didn't say anything to anyone, but simply did what the detectives asked and made copies of the documents and spreadsheets she could find? Then when the FBI or whoever pounced on them, raising a ruckus and trying to arrest them all, she would produce the evidence that cleared everyone. She would be hailed as the one who saved _Hearts of Love Adoption_. Heroism came in many forms.

Heidi decided to go into the office early. She thought about the files on the computer, how she would copy them to blank disks, and how she would hide the disks. They would be the proof she needed, not only of her own innocence, but of her co-workers and bosses. That would be awesome! It might even be worth a substantial raise. Maybe her name and picture would be in the paper, and she could send a little 'care' package to her parents. While it might not pull her even with her brother, it would be something.

She still really liked the Greg and Samantha, well, Chris and Rita, but she was still convinced this was all a big mistake. They were wrong. The FBI was wrong. Everyone that thought ill of _Hearts of Love_ was wrong. She was one-hundred percent confident they were all wrong.

And tomorrow morning, Heidi Pressley would uncover another truth. It would be the terrible discovery that only she was wrong...


	10. Situation

Adoption Day - that was what Greg and Samantha Stone called it - dawned bright and clear. It was another beautiful Wyoming day, which meant bright blue skies and no clouds other than a few light wisps on the peaks. Temperatures promised to reach the mid-forties. It was a perfect day for skiing, it was a perfect day for shopping, and it was a perfect day to add a nine-pound boy to the family.

It was almost seven-thirty, and the Stones were about eighty miles from completing what was likely their last trip to Idaho Falls, when a breathless Heidi Pressley unlocked the door of _Heart of Love Adoption_ and walked in, locking the door behind her. Her struggle to sleep the previous night had made for a frantic, rushed morning. She slept through her alarm twice, costing her twenty minutes, and then her hair wouldn't set right after her shower, causing her no end of frustration. After giving up and tying it off in a ponytail, she threw her things together and raced to the office. She was usually the first person there, arriving between seven and seven-thirty in the morning. The agency didn't open until eight-thirty, but she wanted time to make sure things were ready before the others started trickling in around eight.

Heidi didn't actually get paid for this time - she punched a time clock that limited her to forty hours a week - but there was no doubt staff appreciated her when they arrived. The coffee pot was always full and fresh. The cookies or pastries, or whatever was scheduled to be served, were plated and presentable. She touched up anything the cleaning crew had missed the night before when cleaning the lobby. Her good work was clearly recognized by her bosses, though she didn't advertise it. It was part of the reason she had jumped from her nine-dollar-an-hour starting pay to almost fourteen dollars in such a short time.

She was still feeling very conflicted about her bosses. In her heart, Heidi believed the two detectives and everyone else were wrong, but her gut could not escape the minute possibility they weren't. So she was hedging in her mind - assuming the best but operating for the worst. She knew well that the tape from the video cameras was watched on a regular basis - it's how her superiors knew about the extra work she did each morning - and they would probably notice out-of-the-ordinary things.

As best as she could, she planned her subterfuge. Under her coat, she wore a sweatshirt with one of those across-the-front two-hand pockets. In it, she had carefully placed eight three-and-a-half-inch floppy disks, two sets of four disks, before she left home. She went to the small kitchen and started the coffee, put the bars on the plate and covered them with plastic wrap - dried out chocolate brownies were the worst – and went back to her desk. She hung her coat and purse on the coat rack and sat down. She angled herself slightly, in order to keep her shirt pocket and right hand just out of the camera's view, and went to work.

Heidi powered up her computer, found the network drive with the documents and spreadsheets, and then carefully slid her hand into the pocket and pulled out the first disk. Into the slot it went and two minutes later, it was full. She removed the disk and slipped it behind the others in her pocket. A minute later, she carefully repeated the process, all the while trying to do her normal every-day work in view of a camera that never lied and always saw. In less than twenty minutes, she was done. More than ten megabytes of data had been copied and was resting next to her belly. Part one - data extraction - was complete.

Part two - evidence removal - involved getting the disks back to her car. Heidi had devised that part of her plan on the ten-minute drive from her apartment to the office, and it was super simple: conveniently 'forget' her lunch in the car. She continued to work for a few minutes, then tapped the desk in frustration for the sake of the camera, got up, grabbed her coat and walked out to her car. She reached under her coat, pulled the disks out and slipped them into a thin cardboard box that she shoved under the front seat, picked up her lunch, and walked back. Two minutes later, the cameras recorded her walking through the door and across the floor with a paper bag that she took to the back fridge.

Heidi sat down at her desk - having no idea she was doing so for the last time - and got back to work. Inside, she breathed a huge sigh of relief, glad it was done. The information on those disks would prove either _Hearts of Love Adoption_ was completely legitimate, making her a hero to her bosses, or it would confirm some level of guilt, making her a hero to the authorities. Either way, she would be fine.

She had not been sitting long when the night nurse walked out. Her shift was almost over, and she looked a little frazzled. "Heidi, could you give me a hand? I have three little boys back here, and all of them decided to throw fits at the same time! Jan won't be here for at least a half hour and I could use a hand if you're available."

Heidi jumped up. "Sure! Be glad to help!" The nurses in charge of the babies were very capable, but every once a while, things would spiral. Heidi followed her back to the nursery, the cries of outrage from little mouths getting louder. When Bill Stafford walked through the door fifteen minutes later, Heidi was sitting in the nursery rocking chair, feeding one of the babies and Tammy - the night nurse - was watching the other two sleep after diaper changes and bottles of their own.

Bill took off his coat and gave it a toss toward the rack. It was something he did almost every morning, trying to get it to catch on one of the knobs. He succeeded in 'sticking the landing', as he called it, about one-third of the time. Most of the time, his coat - and usually one or two others - ended up on the floor. It was good for an early-morning laugh or the occasional high-five from Heidi when it worked. Today, however, he succeeded in toppling the entire rack. He ran over and tried without success to catch it, and everything spilled - Tammy's coat, Heidi's coat and purse, his jacket.

He quickly put the rack back up, then hung the coats before anyone came out and saw his mishap. He started putting things back in Heidi's purse, knowing he would probably have to apologize to her for the mess he made. He picked up a piece of a newspaper and started to put it her purse, but he caught a glimpse of the photo and looked at it more closely. He recognized the faces, and it only took reading a few lines of the article to change his demeanor.

He put the newspaper clipping in his pocket and threw the rest of her things back in the purse, giving no more thought to organization - Heidi would not need a purse any longer. He walked to his desk and fired up the computer. When it booted, he opened his email client and sent out a notice to the staff. The subject and body each contained just one word - 'Avalanche'. Everyone would see it when they arrived and would know exactly what to do and who to notify.

He picked up the phone and dialed a number, waiting for the answer. When he heard the greeting on the other end, he said, "Jeff - I need you here as quickly as you can - Avalanche...yep...uh..." He paused to look at his watch. "...your targets are on the way and will be here in thirty to forty minutes, so we'll take them here...bring the Suburban because you'll have three passengers...the receptionist, Heidi Pressley...you and Jan can take them with you. Pick up Robert on the way."

Bill opened the lower drawer of his desk and pulled out his pistol, screwed on a silencer, and headed for the nursery. Through the window, he saw Heidi sitting with one of the babies, so he punched the code and opened the door, peeking his head in the entrance while keeping the pistol behind his back.

She smiled, "Good morning, Bill! Stick the landing this morning?"

"Unfortunately, no I didn't. Could you come with me for a minute? I need your help." Then he looked at Tammy, "Good morning! Avalanche..."

* * *

"Are you ready, Chris?"

"As ready as I'm going to be. Let's go become parents!"

It was just before nine and they were backing into the closest parking space, which was half a block down the street from the agency. They held hands as they walked up the street, and Rita whispered just before giving way to Samantha Stone, "I hope Heidi was able to help us..."

Bill actually opened the front door for them as they walked up. "Welcome! Come on in!"

They stepped over the threshold and Bill shook Greg's hand, then Samantha's. "Can I get you something to drink?" When Samantha held up a partially finished bottle of Dasani, he smiled, "Then come on back to my office, and we'll get started."

Samantha walked through Bill's door first, taking a full step before realizing there were two pistols pointed at her. "Gregory! What...?" But her husband ran into her at that moment, having been shoved by Bill through the door.

There was Bill behind them, brandishing a handgun. In front of them was Jan - the linebacker nurse - and another man they had never met. All of them had weapons, and all the weapons had silencers affixed. Behind them in a chair against the wall sat Heidi Pressley, her mouth taped shut and her hands tied behind her. Chris did a quick assessment. The silencers meant one thing - there would be no bargaining and there would be no pleading - these people were going to kill them.

"Ok, so this isn't normally how we do adoptions," Bill said as he stepped in and closed the door. "But you aren't normal clients, so we're shaking it up a bit. I had a revelation this morning, and it's given me much greater insight into 'Greg and Samantha Stone, doctors from Portland, Maine'." Bill spoke as he walked around to the desk, pulling the paper from his pocket, unfolding and quickly scanning it. Rita closed her eyes and hung her head as Stafford continued. "Sergeant Chris Lorenzo, cop from Palm Beach, Florida. Recently decorated for saving a life - your life," he said, looking at Rita, "Sergeant Rita Lance, cop - also from Palm Beach, Florida. How about that?" He shook his head, looking toward Chris. "It's a shame you went to all that work, saving her life and all, only to come all the way to Idaho so you both could die."

Rita looked at Stafford but said nothing. Chris looked at his captors and only said, "The FBI is hot on your heels. They're coming and it's over." Otherwise, he kept his mouth shut as well, having long ago decided that verbal sparring with would-be killers showed weakness and desperation more than strength. And he needed time to think.

"It's a good thing for all of us that I found this little gem in Ms. Pressley's purse this morning. It made for very interesting reading." He walked over to Heidi, who was clearly terrified, and bent down to her face. Rita could see that it was red - a sure sign she had been slapped around already. "It's a real shame we're going to lose you. Honestly, you did a fantastic job for us. But some mistakes get you corrected, others get you reprimanded, and a few get you fired. This one?" he held the news clipping in front of her, "This one gets you killed."

He turned around. "A couple of quick introductions before we're on our way." He pointed to the man. "This is Jeff, our version of a 'cleaner'. He makes difficult problems go away, and you three are a very difficult problem. And this," he pointed at the woman, "is Janice. She's well equipped to assist Jeff. They'll be the last living people you see on this earth, so take some time to get to know them, even though the memories will be brief."

He turned to Jeff. "Take them to the reservoir, and make sure they can't be found. We'll clear out of here and I'll be in touch."

The three of them were marched at gunpoint to the rear door, where a green Suburban was waiting. The driver - a man named Robert - looked brutish and not to be trifled with. Chris sat in the front seat between Robert and Jeff. Rita was pushed into the back seat, followed by Heidi. Jan sat with them as their guard.

Chris decided right away not to try anything in the office. There were three guns against them in that room alone, and others in the office who might be armed. It would have been suicide. But now, the number of guns was known - two, probably three. It still might be suicide, but at least the odds were fixed.

Robert drove along Highway 26 until they came to a sign for the Ririe Dam. He turned right and they headed down a narrow two-lane road. They passed the Ririe concrete dam on their right and a few minutes later, slowed down as the road changed to gravel. Chris looked up in the rear view mirror and made eye contact with his partner sitting behind him. He could read her mind and see her questioning look, but shook his head ever so slightly - going for one of the guns in the car was precarious. The moment he thought it might work, they angled to the right onto a narrower road that descended into a shallow canyon. An accident here would potentially send the top-heavy vehicle tumbling to the canyon floor, nearly two hundred feet below, meaning almost certain death to all occupants. They would have to wait - and time was fast becoming the enemy.

Robert drove up out of the valley onto something of a plateau and took yet another right turn. He looked at Chris and smiled. "You're not the first cops we've had to deal with, isn't that right?" Jeff, sitting on the other side of Chris, said nothing but smiled back. Robert continued, "We took care of the others up on the Pass."

"Yes, we did." Jeff finally spoke. "We're doing it different this time, but for you all, it will be the same. You'll be dead - little bullet holes through you. It's really lonely out here - very easy for bodies to get lost and just stay lost." He laughed. Robert laughed, too. Jan said nothing and didn't even smile at the cracks. Rita decided she was strictly business.

She also noticed they had transitioned from hard surface roads to gravel and now were rolling down a little-used double-track trail. They were nearing the end of the line. In most of their cases, things happened so quickly that she didn't have much time to get nervous or scared - adrenaline usually took over.

This time it was just the opposite. Everything was slowing down. Chris was waiting to make a move and she was trying to anticipate it to act with him, so she was sensitive to the situation and to every bump and jostle their vehicle made. The rustling of grass against the sides and undercarriage - she could hear it, almost feel it. Her senses had sharpened as she felt anxiety build in her. The Suburban halted and they were forced out. Robert pulled a pistol from a side holster - it was now confirmed - three guns and they were well above the water level in Ririe Reservoir.

Jeff spoke. "You two take the cops over to that ledge, and I'll deal with the little girl over there," he said as he pointed to the right. Robert smiled and mumbled under his breath, "I'm sure you will..." before shoving Rita to the left and ordering her to move.

The two of them walked toward the ledge, dodging little patches of snow here and there, and Chris took her hand for just a moment as they walked, not looking at her but giving just a little squeeze. They reached the edge, and it wasn't a vertical drop to oblivion, but rather a steep, forty-percent slope that ran several hundred feet to the waterline. Then Rita understood. Their bodies would tumble a long way, too far to be easily seen from up top, but too far away from the water to be seen from a boat. Furthermore, their bodies wouldn't end up in the water, to float and eventually be found. They would lie somewhere down there until just their bones remained.

Rita looked at the sun and could almost feel each ray of light hitting her, giving a bit of warmth to the chilly morning. Her senses were now almost electric and she had a horrible realization. Her heightened awareness would make everything more vivid. She would hear the click of the trigger, maybe even the hammer striking the firing pin when the trigger was pulled. The silencer would muffle almost all the report, but she would actually feel the concussion an instant before the bullet struck her body. She would feel, in full gruesome detail, the horrible pain of the slug tearing up her insides. If the bullet hit her heart, she might actually feel her heart explode. Clearly, death was more tactile even than life.

There would probably be a bullet through the head for good measure. Rita hoped she would be gone by then so she wouldn't experience the shattering of her skull and the mangling of her brain. She wouldn't feel her body tumbling incoherently down the slope, off the little ledges. She wouldn't feel her bones breaking and her neck snapping with the impacts. Was Chris thinking about any of this? Did he know how much she loved him? If it was finally his time to die, at least they were going together - her life would be so empty without him.

"Turn around!" They were the first words Rita heard the woman speak, and they would be the last.

The two detectives turned. Rita heard the footsteps as Robert walked up behind her, keeping at arm's length. Janice was behind Chris and there was a moment of silence, where everything seemed to hang in limbo. Without a sound, two pistols were being raised...

Chris moved like a blur, his body twisting with cat-like speed! He threw his right forearm up, hitting Janice's gun hand and throwing it into the air. Her pistol fired - its muted spit of death sending a slug high into the air to land harmlessly in forty feet of Ririe Reservoir water. He continued his spin, bringing his left hand around - balled into a fist - to punch her in the chest, knocking her backwards and onto the ground. He was immediately on her, giving her no chance to recover.

Robert glanced to his left as Chris attacked, and at that moment, Rita ducked and launched herself back, throwing her body into Robert's torso. She held nothing back - Robert easily had seventy pounds on her and she needed every bit of force she could muster. They both went down and Rita twisted, clawing at his face and eyes with one hand while grabbing for his weapon hand.

Janice was an incredibly strong woman - stronger even than Rita - but not stronger than Chris. She fought to bring the gun down to kill her attacker, but Chris was twisting her wrist. The pain was horrible, but she fought hard, inching the barrel closer to his neck. His fingers found her throat and he squeezed, desperately fighting to stay alive. As she gasped for breath, her grip on her pistol loosened just a little - it was all Chris needed. He twisted her wrist down and in, and there was a sickening pop as it dislocated. She screeched in terrible pain and shoved with all her might, pulling the trigger twice. But her damaged wrist was pointed inward, and two nine-millimeter slugs ripped through her torso. With a grunt and a violent expulsion of air louder even than the shots, Janice's body involuntarily relaxed. Chris grabbed the gun from her dying hand...

Robert had succeeded in rolling over on top of Rita and was working to bring the gun to bear on her face. His cheeks and lips were cut and bleeding from Rita's attack, and she was holding his gun away from her face while pushing on his chin, trying to force him off. But his size advantage was already wearing her down and his left arm was groping for her throat. He was sitting on her abdomen, reviving fresh pain in the area of her stab wound. Her arms were screaming and the barrel was inching closer to its target. She pulled her hand from his face and used it to fight the gun, but it wasn't going to be enough. In a few moments, it would be over. His hand had found her throat and squeezed - she was gasping. "Chris!" she croaked.

She heard the silenced report of a gun and Robert stiffened. It fired again and the left side of Robert's head exploded as a second bullet blew through and exited. His grip on her throat loosened and he fell forward on top of her - a dead weight she could barely move. Then Chris was beside her, pulling the gun from Robert's dead hand and rolling him off.

Rita gasped for breath and looked to her left. Janice was staring back at her with dead, unmoving eyes, a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. A moment later Chris was on her, wiping parts of her assailant off her face, neck, and chest, then hugging her and holding her. "You're a bloody mess! Are you all right? Are you hit or hurt?"

"No, I'm fine, just scrapes and cuts. My belly hurts again...thank you, Christopher!" Her hands were on his face and she kissed his cheeks and lips repeatedly, barely aware she was doing it. "That was cl..." she paused for only a second, "...Heidi!"

They both jumped up and headed toward the Suburban as quickly and quietly as possible. Chris handed his partner the gun Robert had been carrying. They heard Jeff yelling a little ways away and they quietly jogged, guns at the ready. They came to an opening in the grass and stunted shrubs and both stopped, stunned...

Heidi was lying on the ground, squirming, her hands still tied behind her back. Jeff was above her on his knees, fumbling with his pants while one hand roamed under her shirt. Rita was filled with rage - Heidi's killer was preparing to deliver the ultimate indignity before dispatching her. Jeff's gun was lying next to him at the ready, but Rita wasn't waiting. Before Chris could say or do anything, she raised the firearm. An instant later, he heard the silenced 'pffut' and Jeff jerked and then slumped, a red splotch clearly visible at the back of his neck.

They ran to Heidi and Chris threw Jeff off, rolling him over. His eyes stared back, trying to focus as he gurgled, his throat a mass of torn, bloody flesh. Chris could see the carotid artery pumping his life onto the rocks and grass. He quickly took off his jacket and pressed it against the wound, but it was no use. Jeff took a couple of shallow breaths and then stopped breathing altogether. His eyes went glassy and somehow closed as death took him.

Rita tended to Heidi, untying her hands and ripping the tape off. Splattered with blood and little pieces of Jeff, she was weeping as she threw her arms around Rita. "Thank you! Thank you for saving my life. I'm so sorry! Thank you!" Rita held her. "Shhh...it's alright, it's ok..."


	11. Observation

Chris and Rita were exhausted as they sat at a table in the small conference room of the Idaho Falls Police Department. There were nearly a dozen chairs in the room, all but one of them occupied. Captain Winston, head of the Jackson Police Department, sat next to Rita. Then it was Captain Clement, head of the Idaho Falls PD. Lieutenant Montross, who headed up the assault team, was there along with his two team leaders. Captain Hudson sat next to them, along with a couple of IFPD officers. There were two members of the FBI - one man and one woman, the leads on the case - then an empty chair, and then Heidi Pressley, who was sitting next to Chris.

It had been a very long day and the night was getting longer, with the clock pushing towards 10pm. It had been a mixed bag of success and frustration.

The assault team was in place and ready to move in on _Hearts of Love Adoption_ when Chris and Rita arrived at 11:45, not from the entrance of the building, but in a green Suburban driving down the street. Chris jumped out and ran to Hudson, quickly explaining what had happened. The assault team immediately moved in to secure the office, but were too late. Everyone was gone, the babies were gone, the file cabinets were empty, and the computer system destroyed - completely demagnetized and useless.

Fortunately, Heidi's diligence paid off. The diskettes she recovered from under her car seat provided a treasure trove of information and linkages. By mid-afternoon, Tammy Colson - the night nurse – was in custody. The three baby boys were with her and were rescued unharmed. Bill Stafford was dead; he barricaded himself in his home and then committed suicide when the assault team breached the place. Three other employees were also in the city jail, having given up without a fight.

Robert, Jeff, and Janice were also dead. While Captain Hudson and his team had begun the rounding up process, Chris and Rita - with some directional help from Heidi - led Idaho Falls authorities back to Ririe Reservoir to process the bodies and crime scene there.

When Captain Winston was introduced to the two detectives, he shook their hands and then hugged each of them. "You have no idea what this means to me. I'm not usually one to speak about vengeance, but I feel like I've gotten some. These people tore our family up, but you two have helped bring a little justice. My son-in-law and granddaughter will be forever grateful - so will I. Thank you!"

Heidi Pressley initially felt terrible for the part she had played in the danger. "Had I just remembered to take that paper out of my purse...I thought about it when I laid down last night, but figured I would take care of it when I got up. Then I was late this morning...three - no, four - people died because of that and the three of us almost died! I'm so sorry."

Chris rubbed her back as Captain Hudson responded. "You did great, Heidi, considering you got thrown into the middle of a situation that was never meant to be yours. We hope that you got enough information to really help us put the clamps on these people. They did get a bit of a head-start - having several hours to warn others and prepare for us - but we're optimistic."

The depositions, interviews, interrogations, and processing the data Heidi had saved continued through the afternoon and into the evening, and now they were trying to finish up the first part of an arduous task.

"Well, this has been an incredible day." Captain Hudson looked at each of them before turning to the FBI, "I hope we've given you enough information to continue breaking up this crime ring. The marijuana and cocaine we found in that back room may have opened up a potential drug-dealing angle we weren't aware of. You guys will have plenty to keep you busy."

The FBI man spoke. "We found a couple of California addresses in one of the files from the diskettes - one in Long Beach and the other in San Francisco - so we had teams hit those places earlier this evening to see what they could find. We should know more about those tomorrow." He turned to Chris and Rita. "We appreciate the excellent work you did. It was invaluable. The FBI will take it from here, but we would like you to remain in Jackson...let's see...maybe through Friday, in case we need anything else. It'll probably be two days of vacation, but you're getting paid, so enjoy it!"

Captain Hudson added, "I will get your return flights set for Saturday afternoon...through Portland, remember. The flight from Portland to Palm Beach will be Sunday morning. I'll send the itineraries to the Lodge, and you'll be travelling as the Stones for the return flight to Portland. I'll call Harry with the good results and let him know that, unless something drastic happens, you'll be back in the office Monday morning."

By the time everyone cleared out of the building, it was after eleven and Heidi was dragging as she walked toward her car with Chris and Rita. Chris yawned, and turned to his partner. "I'm not looking forward to a two-hour drive back to Jackson. You want to drive?"

"Absolutely not! I'm beat. And look at us!"

Chris laughed. Exhaustion and the lengthy debriefing caused him to overlook the condition of his partner – she was still a mess from the fight at the reservoir. Heidi was a mess, too.

"Say, you guys want to stay with me tonight? I've got a second bedroom and a hot shower."

"Thanks, Heidi, that's very sweet, but not necessary. Chris and I will get a room somep..."

"No, please, come stay. You guys saved my life today after I nearly got us all killed. It's the least I can do." She looked at Rita. "I have some sweats you can borrow. Chris, I don't have anything for you..."

Chris accepted the invitation gratefully. It beat driving back to Jackson by a long shot. "I'm presentable. I can run to the Wal-Mart quick and grab a couple things for me. You two go ahead and get cleaned up. Give me directions and I'll be there shortly. Sam, I'll get you a toothbrush and deodorant - you need anything else?...underwear?...a nightie?" He was laughing as he finished.

"You are not picking out underwear for me, and you're definitely not doing it at Wal-Mart!" She shook her head. "You are crazy! Just go and hurry back."

"You have a nice place here, Heidi," Rita said just after Heidi turned on the light in her apartment. "Cozy and comfy."

"Yeah, it's nice, and it's pretty cheap. I suppose that's good, now that I'm unemployed. Wow, I have to get another job and everything. A lot has changed in eighteen hours!"

"You won't have any trouble finding work. So tell me about Alex."

"Maybe after we clean up. The shower is down the hall to the right. You're the guest, so you can go first and I'll find you something to wear."

Rita was soaping her hair when Heidi brought in some sweats, set them on the sink, and spoke over the noise of the water. "I put some things on the counter here. I don't have any underwear for you, but if you're alright with it, I'll wash all our things when Chris gets here so everything will be clean for tomorrow."

Rita answered from behind the shower curtain. "Thank you, sweetie. That's very kind of you."

Heidi sat down on the toilet. "Is it weird if I talk to you in here?"

"Not at all, though you'll have to speak up a little. Tell me about Alex."

"Ok. He's really funny and he's really nice. It helps that he's really good looking...well, you saw him. We met last August and started dating a couple months later."

"How did you meet?"

"Some girlfriends were shopping with me in Jackson, and we ate lunch where he was a waiter. A chance meeting, but it has worked out so far."

"Older or younger?"

"He's twenty-four – about two years older. He has a forestry degree and is trying to get on in the Park. But so far, it hasn't happened." She laughed. "As handsome as he is, you'd think they would hire him on the spot." Rita heard her laugh. "I keep talking about his looks, like that's all there is. He's really smart and a really nice man."

"Yeah, he's definitely cute. Have you given any thought to moving closer to him? Two hours is quite a distance, especially in the winter."

"Oh yeah, I think about it a lot, but with work and my lease not being up until June, I definitely had to wait a bit. Jackson is more expensive than Idaho Falls, but now, I have one less thing holding me here. Maybe I can find work here for a couple of months, and then see about moving over there. I know Alex would love to have me closer, too...at least he better love the idea..." she added with a laugh.

"Has he met your parents?"

"They know about him and have talked to him a couple times on the phone, but Boynton Beach is a long ways from here and it's expensive to get back there."

There was a moment of silence before Heidi spoke. "So, what about Chris? What's your history with him?"

Rita rubbed the washcloth over the scrapes on her knees and elbows. "Well, we both did stints in vice and then in narcotics and we knew each other there. Then we were put together several years back investigating high-society murders in Palm Beach. We've been together ever since."

"Together...?"

"Together as partners, Heidi. We have the added benefit of being best friends as well, but we are partners. We really understand each other. Kind of read each other's minds and all. He's terrific!"

"You guys do this kind of undercover-husband-and-wife work very often?"

"Um...just one other time that I can think of. We also posed as an engaged couple once. This kind of work doesn't come our way much."

"Hmmm...ok. Does Chris have a girlfriend?"

"Not for a little while."

"Hmmm...you have a boyfriend?"

Rita laughed. "Not for even longer than Chris."

"Hmmm..." Heidi paused, as if thinking. "Has he saved your life many times?"

"He saved it today, and he has on several occasions. You read about another time in that newspaper article. Had Chris gone home instead of coming back to my place that night, I would be dead now. As it was, I only just survived. But I've pulled his fat out of the fire, too." She laughed. "That's what partners do."

"And you like him?"

Rita hesitated, knowing where this question would lead, but wanting to be honest with her new friend. "Yeah, of course I like him. He's a great guy - considerate, gracious, you name it."

"You love him?"

She shut the water off and grabbed the towel. "Yes, but no...that's a bit complicated. Maybe we can discuss it after you clean up. Thank you again for the shower. I feel human again."

"You're welcome. See you in a minute..." and Heidi closed the door behind her, smiling to herself.

When Heidi walked out of the bathroom after cleaning up, Chris still hadn't arrived and Rita was beginning to wonder what was taking him. "Ok, so I'm showered and sparkly clean - it's really gross having a dead guy's blood all over you! Now fess up! What is so complicated about loving Chris?"

"You don't give up."

"I called you at three in the morning to try and catch you off-guard. I drove two hours Jackson to ask you one question about being cops."

"Point taken. Look, I love Christopher. He loves me, too, but I don't think we are actually in love with each other. That's altogether different."

"Ok. I'm only twenty-two, so there's probably stuff I don't know, but that sounds silly. I really like my boyfriend. I like him a lot, but I don't love him. Not yet. If I loved him, I would be in love with him – same thing. Wait, you don't 'think' you're in love with Chris? So you might be?" Heidi paused, looking around. "Ok, where is Chris?"

"I don't know. He should be here by now and I'm starting to worry."

"Ok, you're in love with your partner. That's my observation. He is gone twenty minutes longer than you figure, and you're worried. Ok, that's love."

"You say 'ok' an awful lot."

"Bad habit. But it's a lot better than smoking and drinking."

It was after 2am when the last light in Heidi's apartment went off. Chris had grabbed some pizza from a local late-night place he happened to pass on the way, which was why he didn't return until midnight. They ate and visited before Chris headed for the shower. Heidi insisted they each take a bedroom, but Chris refused to leave the couch, saying a pillow and blanket was all he needed. Rita got the spare bedroom.

Chris did not think there was much to be said for sleeping on the sofa, especially after spending nearly a week in bed with Rita. But the case was winding down, and the need for Greg and Samantha Stone was pretty much over. He felt a little sad. It would be great to be back home, but he would miss this place. He would miss the beauty of the landscape and the skiing, which he fully intended to embrace as much as possible in the remaining time he and Rita had here. However, if he was being honest, he was going to miss Samantha Stone the most. He looked at his left hand in the dark, not able to see it, but knowing the wedding band was still there. That would have to come off sometime - maybe tomorrow, he decided. Or maybe the next day. He closed his eyes.

"You awake?"

The whisper, in the absolute silence of the night, startled Chris and he jumped. He whispered back. "You scared the crap out of me, Rita! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I'm sorry. I can't sleep. Can I sit with you?"

Chris was sure he could easily sleep, but nodded and sat up on the one side of the sofa. She sat down, leaning into him and pulling his blanket over them. He rubbed her hands, his hands running across the diamond on her ring finger before moving to rest on her hip.

"Mmmm, this is more comfortable than the bed..."

"Somehow, I doubt that," he said, smiling in the dark before adding, "You smell really good...again."

"Thanks! You do, too. So...are you going to miss this when we get back to Palm Beach?"

"Not a bit...you?" Chris replied with as straight a face as he could muster.

"Liar!" she whispered back with an elbow to the stomach. "You're a liar!"

"If you already knew the answer, why did you ask me?"

She was silent for a bit.

"Thank you for saving my life - again."

"Thank you for saving my life, Rita." When she cocked her head, puzzled, Chris continued. "If you hadn't knocked Robert down when you did, he probably would have shot and killed me before killing you. So thank you." He kissed her hair and then her ear.

She twisted and put her hand to his face and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Christopher." She so badly wanted to say something more, but couldn't. She so badly wanted to kiss him - as Samantha Stone had done so many times already - but didn't dare. Samantha Stone was gone now...so was Gregory, her magnificent husband. Or maybe...her heart fluttered...

* * *

Heidi walked quietly out of her bedroom and into the kitchen at 6:15. It wasn't as though she had to go work, but force of habit woke her up, and she needed to start the dryer to finish their clothes from the night before. She wanted to turn on the local news to see if there was anything about _Hearts of Love_ , but didn't want to wake Chris just yet. She turned on the kitchen light to start her coffee, and then noticed the sofa. She was sure only one body was there when she turned in earlier, but now she could clearly see the outlines of two individuals. She tiptoed quietly out there and shook her head with a knowing smile: Chris was lying propped against a pillow and Rita was lying on his chest, his arm draped over her. Both were sleeping.

"Just partners..." she whispered to herself, smiling and shaking her head.

They left Heidi's apartment just after eight. A partial story on _Hearts of Love_ had made the morning news, and Heidi's name was mentioned. 'A raid that netted a substantial quantity of drugs' was the story and Chris chuckled. The theft of infants and illegal adoptions wasn't even mentioned. When Heidi asked why, he explained. "The FBI isn't saying anything about the babies because of the obvious backlash. Reporters would somehow get the list of affected families and then descend on them like sharks. It would be horrible."

Rita continued. "Yep. So the FBI is only releasing the drug stuff only to explain the raid. That buys them time to do the work of tracing babies back and figuring out how to - potentially - take a bunch of little children from families that don't rightfully own them. This case might have a lot of collateral damage."

When they walked out of her apartment, her phone was ringing again. Heidi had suddenly become very busy and very popular. She had already called her parents to give them a quick update, but writers from other stations and local newspapers were starting to check in, all wanting interviews. Rita laughed, "This is fun right now, but you'll grow to hate it. The press can be relentless."

Then Heidi hugged her tightly, "Thank you. Thank you for my life. Thank you for saving me from being raped." Her voice cracked a bit. "Thank you for being a friend."

Rita whispered in her ear. "Come to Jackson tonight if you can. You originally asked to meet Greg and Samantha, but we're just about as nice as them. I think we're staying until Saturday." She pulled away as a thought struck her. "If you want, bring a change of clothes and stay at the Lodge with us tonight. You alright with that, Christopher?" When he gave an enthusiastic nod, she continued. "You can spend time with Alex today and tomorrow. I know you have a story to tell him. Christopher wants to ski again, so join us...just a thought. If you decide to come over, call the Lodge and leave us a message with what time you plan to be there...I'm pretty sure you have the number."

* * *

They spent a little time with Captain Hudson and IFPD that morning, but there was little to report, and all of the news was bad. Hudson shook his head, "The addresses in Long Beach and San Francisco turned up empty - files cleaned out or burned and computer equipment destroyed. We got there too late. Clearly, they had warning. The 'I' part of the FBI is going to get a workout. I have a bad feeling that if they uncover more names of the families that adopted, they will have to go in and remove the children until they can figure out what to do. This is probably going to hurt a lot. I know how we often feel about them, but the FBI is going to look bad in this, and it won't be their fault."

"We got your depositions and reports yesterday. You might as well head back to Jackson. Enjoy a couple days and do nothing. I'll meet up with you Saturday morning before you leave - unless something else comes up."

Just before eleven, Chris and Rita left Idaho Falls. When Chris got to Swan Valley, he turned off the main road onto State Road 31. Rita looked at him, "Hey, where..."

"Well, I was thinking. We have been taking the low road back and forth to Idaho Falls. Since this is probably our last trip, maybe we should try scenic route over the Pass. It's just a few minutes longer." He took his foot off the gas. "If you don't want to, I'll turn around and we'll go the normal way."

"Well, we're not on elephants, but if you want to make like Hannibal, I'm game."

"What? Hannibal Lecter?"

"Good grief, Christopher! Don't you know anything about history? Hannibal was a great military general from Carthage way back - I think first or second century. Legend tells that he crossed the Alps on elephants when going to battle." She rolled her eyes and half-whispered, "Hannibal Lecter..."

"Well, I can't remember everything I learned in high school. My brain is full of stuff, and when something new comes in, something else has to go. 'Hannibal riding elephants' doesn't really rank up there in the 'worth keeping around' category."

"Really? Ok, what are the names of the girls you made out with in high school - senior year only? I bet they rank high enough to keep."

Chris was quiet and didn't look at her, so she pounced. "I bet you can name all of them and sort them in order of preference."

"You're hilarious. Just so you know, there are only a few."

"I'm waiting..."

Chris got an evil grin and gave her a glance from the corner of his eye. "I made out with you the other night - actually, a couple different times out here - and you're way better than anyone from my senior year."

"Christopher!" He could see her face turn slightly pink and there was a bit of a smile behind the surface of outrage.

He squinted, as if thinking. "Yeah, well, maybe there was one that was better..."

"Christopher!" she said a little louder, hitting his shoulder with the back of her hand.

He pretended to flinch and started laughing. "Hey, I just wanted to take the road over the mountains. You started it with all that 'Hannibal and the Alps' stuff."

"Maybe we should change the subject."

"Good idea, Rita."

The new subject turned out to be 'silence', and it lasted about sixty seconds. Then Rita spoke in a quiet voice. "So...was there a girl that was bet..."

"Rita..."

"K..."


	12. Conclusion

Chris put Rita's bag in the overhead bin, and then parked his own next to it before sitting beside his partner. He looked at her and smiled. She took his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. The plane was a little more than half full - the Saturday flights out of Jackson were always less crowded than those departing on Sunday. They would arrive in Portland after sunset, which seemed somehow fitting. The proverbial sun was setting on this mission, and while they would remain Greg and Samantha Stone until they picked up their luggage in Portland, their assignment was all but over. The return to reality had begun.

"You ok, Sam?"

She took a deep breath. "Yeah, I am. A little tired, thanks to you."

Chris laughed. He was tired as well, and sore. The sore was easy to explain. Once they had returned to Idaho Falls on Thursday, Heidi Pressley and her boyfriend Alex joined them. Rita had ridden with Heidi into Jackson one last time to peruse the stores, and the two guys spent the afternoon snowboarding. It was easier for Chris to learn than traditional skiing, and he had a blast.

Rita and Heidi had a great time as well, though she was embarrassed when Heidi ventured into the outfitter store where Rita had been twice before. Katherine, the sales lady, asked Rita if she had shown the black halter dress to her husband yet. Heidi snickered and shook her head while Rita turned bright pink and mumbled a quick 'Yes, and he loved it' before figuring out how to quickly get out of the store. The four of them ate dinner together, played some cards, and watched part of a basketball game before Alex kissed his girlfriend and headed for his place.

Heidi left for Idaho Falls after breakfast the following morning, but not before giving them big hugs. "Thank you again for everything, including my life. I'm so sorry you have to leave tomorrow. The next time I visit my parents, I'll call and we'll catch up. If you're ever out here again..."

Rita smiled and answered, "We know what to do."

The plane turned onto the runway and paused for a moment as its engines throttled to full before accelerating down the runway. Rita squeezed his hand a little tighter and nestled her other hand around his arm. Takeoffs would never be her thing.

Chris yawned and smiled, his mind drifting back to yesterday. After Heidi left, he and Rita had been on the slopes again until mid-afternoon. Then it was back to the Lodge, where they cleaned up, did their laundry, and got things pretty much packed up for the return home.

"I'm glad I brought one of my bigger bags with me. I'm taking home more than I brought." She walked over and put her arm around Chris. "Thank you again for the outfit. I know that was part of the husband-and-wife cover, but you didn't have to do that. I hope it wasn't really expensive, because I can guarantee that Harry won't approve it as an expense. Can I pay you for it?" When Chris told her no, she asked, "Can I pay for half of it?" Chris shook his head a second time. "Tell you what," she said, her hand dipping to his waist, "This is your outfit, so I will only wear it when I'm with you. Sound good?" Not surprisingly, Chris was fine with that.

They ate dinner in the hotel Friday night, planning to hit the sack early, but that didn't work out quite as they intended. With the fake fire going and just the kitchen light on, they sat on the sofa for the final time, under a blanket, talking about their time in Wyoming.

"Chris, you said more than once that you'd like to live out here someday. Do you really think that?"

"I don't know. A part of that was the undercover wealthy doctor Gregory Stone talking. But not all of it..."

"So you might consider leaving the department and Palm Beach?"

"No, not really. Well, I don't know. Probably not, but it's gorgeous and pristine out here. The air is cleaner, clearer..."

"Colder. Much colder."

"Yeah, Sam, it's colder, but there are lots of ways to stay warm...hey look, there are a few flurries falling right now. There is an attraction to this place I can't escape. Rugged, untamed, natural, rustic - all those words we use in Palm Beach that have no meaning there. In the back of my mind..." he shrugged his shoulders, "...someday, maybe I could consider it."

"Christopher, would you leave me in Florida to come here?" There was a tiny bit of concern in her voice.

Chris laughed and put his arm around her, pulling her to him. "I don't have any plans to ever leave you, Rita. You should know that by now." He paused. "You know, you could always come to Wyoming, too. You were here a week as my wife and that worked out pretty well, didn't it?" He rubbed her shoulders. "It wasn't all business and you had a pretty good time, didn't you?"

"More than a good time on a couple of occasions." she said with a snicker.

"Yeah, after skiing for the first time, I know I absolutely love it! I'm going to put off that bonus week of vacation until late in the year and go skiing again."

"I really enjoyed that, too, but I was thinking more about our dinner at the Snake River Grill."

"The food?"

"Well, the food was great, but I really enjoyed the entertainment. I've never been so turned on as I was then - for my pretend husband," she laughed and shook her head as if clearing cobwebs, but she was warming with the memory.

Chris smiled, "I think I figured that out when we got back here. That was wild. And that black dress you bought...wow!"

"Can I confess something to you?"

"I have no God-like power to forgive, Rita, but confess away."

"When we got back here that night, I was going to...you know...I wanted to...let you..."

"I know. I wanted that, too, but I'm also glad we didn't. It was right that you stopped. I made you a promise and if I had broken it, you would have lost your respect for me. That would have been terrible!"

"No. I would never lose my respect for you." What she wanted to add, but couldn't, was how much she loved this week with him, despite its dangers. How much she treasured every moment laughing, talking, walking, driving, sitting. Every inch of his body, the way he touched her, the way he took control of her body. How he held her hair when she was sick, and rubbed her back when she finished puking her guts out. How much she loved him, completely and totally loved him. Samantha Stone loved her husband, almost as much as Rita loved her partner. She knew she would have to tell him...soon, but she couldn't...not yet. She was fearful of losing him.

"Rita, while we're confessing..."

"Yeah...?"

"I shouldn't say this out loud, but this has probably been the best week of my life. Being with you - just you - in the place has been fantastic. Honestly? I don't want it to end." He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"You're a dangerous man, Christopher Lorenzo."

"You make me a dangerous man, Rita Lance." he shot back.

There was silence and Chris worked hard to shut off the obvious back-and-forth fire-stoking that was going on. The undercover job was over; they were just Chris and R...

"I'm still wearing my diamond," she whispered, taking a devious, very risky chance.

"I know. I haven't taken my ring off, either...see?" He held his hand up and she looked at the band, glittering in the firelight. His hand slid back under the covers, resting on the fringe of her shirt just above her waist. "Why do you bring that up?"

Rita moved her hand to his thigh, rubbing the thick fabric of his jeans. "Oh, I don't know..." She took a deep breath. "You know, these rings say we're still married, and we'll be that way until Portland. I think those were the orders from Captain Hudson."

"Orders? I'm not sure..."

"They sounded like orders to me, Chris," her hand drifted over his chest to his neck.

There was silence again - each waiting for the other.

Chris couldn't help himself. "So...you want to make out for a while?"

Rita turned and looked at him in mock surprise. "What? Really? What are we, fifteen?"

"I think we've already had this discussion. No, we are not fifteen, and nobody's parents are nearby. Harry is in Palm Beach and Hudson is in Jackson. I'm just saying...if you're interested, I might be, too." She sucked in her breath as his hand drifted up under her shirt and then stopped. She felt herself flushing. He looked at her, biting his lower lip...waiting...

"So we'd be doing this as the Stones, right?"

"I guess so, but we probably shouldn't do it at a..."

"Shut up, Gregory!" Samantha Stone turned and forced her mouth on his, and her warm lips swept away any hesitation. After a minute, she got up and exhaled, "Mmm...be right back..."

Oh no...Chris thought to himself. He knew what was coming and he knew he would not resist her. Three minutes later, she re-appeared in the doorway, wearing that crazy awesome black dress. Oh no...if beauty could stagger a man, she had knocked him out cold.

Samantha walked over to him, leaned down, and cupped his face with her hands. She whispered, "Hello, lover..." and thrust her tongue between his lips, whimpering a little with desire. As she swirled it in his mouth, she straddled his thighs and sat down on his lap. "Pull the blanket over us and take your shirt off."

"What?"

"I didn't stutter, Greg. Take it off! Here..." She pulled his arms up, then reached down and yanked his shirt over his head. She smiled and kissed him again. "That's much better. Your body..." She lightly ran her hands over his bare chest, sighing with satisfaction before leaning down and kissing his shoulders, then working kisses down his skin and across his chest.

Gregory Stone had the best life - and the best wife - in the world...

The seat-belt sign chimed, signaling their freedom to move about the cabin, and Chris popped back to reality. Rita caught his little jump and chuckled. "What are you thinking about, Christopher?"

"Don't ask."

"Our meeting with Captain Hudson this morning?"

That had been another exercise in frustration. The FBI was still working through the data gleaned from Heidi's diskette collection, but it was going to take time. It was now clear the newspaper article from Palm Beach that found its way to Wyoming had really hurt the cause. "We'll be very fortunate if we can find any ties overseas. Maybe one of the people we arrested will talk, but so far, no one is saying anything." If there was any good news, it was that the FBI wouldn't remove any babies from households until a definite tie-back to the original families could be found, but that was the lone bright spot in a pretty dark sky. Captain Hudson shook his head. "Sometimes they just go this way. The good guys don't always get the wins they want. However, you two - once again - did a fantastic job. We put an end to a serious crime ring, even if we only got part of it. It's been a pleasure to work with you again, and who knows, maybe it will happen again in the future." He hugged both of them. "Safe travels back to Palm Beach, and stay in touch."

Chris looked at Rita and smiled. "No, that's not at all what I'm thinking about."

She laughed. "I wasn't, either. I shouldn't say this, but I was thinking about how much I loved that sofa in the hotel room. And the bed. And the tub. And the shower, though we weren't in that together. What are we going to do, Sam?"

"Well, let's finish this flight today and get back to Palm Beach tomorrow."

"No, I mean about us. We spent a week out here acting like married people. Well, in most respects that's how we acted. It all ends in a few hours. Are you going to be alright?"

Chris thought for a moment. "I don't know. I don't think I have a choice, so I'll be fine." But that was a fool's endeavor. He loved this woman - but how to tell her without scaring her away...

Rita looked down and whispered, "Yeah, me neither," before looking at him. "And don't you dare ask me if all our physical interaction and romantic behavior meant something, because I'll tell you 'no', and I can't stand lying to you."

Chris laughed and squeezed her.

* * *

Rita walked through the doors of the Palm Beach PD to a chorus of 'Hellos, How are yous, and Welcome backs'. In the corner, there was Chris, pouring himself a cup of coffee. She sat down at her desk and he walked over with the pot, filling her cup with a smile. "Happy Monday, Sam."

She ran her fingers through her hair and returned the smile, but before she could say anything, Harry was standing in the doorway of his office. "Chris, Rita, a word please?"

They shut the door and he pointed at the chairs. When they sat down, he started. "I spoke with Captain Hudson yesterday. You guys did a great job - not that I expected anything less. It sounds like you had a narrow shave, but uh...you pulled through again. We're going to lunch today - the three of us - to visit more about it, but I just got off the phone. You have work here. There's a new wrinkle in the Archie Crawford murder case..."


End file.
